#and i have no clue how low my oxygen can go before i can reasonably justify the potential cost of a hospital visit

[7thedisasterdyke]

NGYAEHHHHHHHH

The MOTHERFUCKING FSA CRITERIA FOR APPLYING WITHOUT PARENT INFORMATION

WHA T THE FUCK ARE THEY

ALL IT TELLS ME IS "oh you can't use this this and this" and it's like MOTHERFUCKER. TELL ME WHAT FITS THE BILL

NOT TO MENTION THE SLOW-AS-GODDAMN-FUCK LOADING SPEEDS ON THE FSA WEBBED SITE, CAN'T GET SHIT DONE IF I HAV E TO WAIT 15 YEARS TO DO IT

i'm in my bed with GODDA<N COVID and i want to FUCKING DIE OF IT and this GODDAMN COLLEGE BULLFUCKERY IS NOT GODDAMN HELPING

I'm fucking sobbing in bed with a goddamn respiratory disease, blood oxygen at damn near dangerous levels, all because the fucking system is built to fuck me over because we don't have paperwork proving we were legally kicked out at 17

i'm so tired

[anika-ann]

Just a Human (S.R.)

Type: mini-series turned one-shot, SHIELD recruit!reader

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader     Word count: 8750

Summary: Being a SHIELD recruit was a dream come true, especially with people like Sergeant Barnes or Captain Rogers offering an input to your class’ training.

It was also hard work for many different reasons. One of them being all those guys around; not all of them were exactly fit to become heroes, simply because they were not good people.

Maybe you shouldn’t have pointed it out so openly though. Then again, what would the world turn into if you kept your mouth shut when feeling like speaking up?

WARNINGS: so-so graphic description of assault almost turned sexual, violence and a bit of blood, boys being boys in a real bad way, language

A/N: Steve Rogers vs assholes, round 2. Also, ‘you’ vs. assholes. And Bucky in the mix.

A/N: This was originally posted as a miniseries on AO3, but now edited, I decided to thrown it in as a long, sort-of three part one-shot. Enjoy and mind the warnings.

(gif source dailymcugifs, divider by firefly-graphics)

A Handful of Spite

“Can you believe the fucking nerve on him?!” Henry hissed, punching the bag harder and catching your attention. The statement was followed by his companion nodding grimly.

You tried to ignore the walking testosterone jerks; you never liked either Henry or Jim. The reason was simple – they were, as you loved to remind people, an advertisement on toxic masculinity. Bullies on top of that. The kind of people you wanted to avoid at all costs.

You weren’t that lucky to have that chance though.

So instead, you scoffed under your breath and continued your sit-ups series. You had more important things to do than wonder about what they were talking about this time.

It was your regular training session with the other SHIELD recruits led by Sergeant Barnes – which--- oh my. When joining the academy, you had no clue that the director’s ‘you’ll be learning from the best’ meant that of all things; trained by the more-than-once-believed-late James Buchanan Barnes. Everyone here knew his story – or at least some of it. The brainwashing. The murders. His heroics to make up for them as much as he could. His everlasting friendship and a nickname that was tied to it. Bucky; the very best friend of the oh-so-praised Captain America.

Oh, speaking of which, he joined the sessions too. You were being trained by not one, but two supersoldiers slash war heroes. You couldn’t believe this was your life sometimes, but you were not one to dwell on it. You just accepted it as a fact. An abso-fucking-lutely incredible fact.

“He’s just a fucker, man. Forget about Barnes, you have Cassie in your pocket. Just ‘cause he’s all sticky sweet on her doesn’t mean she’ll suck his-“

You made a disgusting face, pushing harder to tune out the conversation. You wanted to gag and at the same time, your blood was boiling.

Could there be a jerk who was objectifying women more than Jim? A guy who was using his lower brain more frequently than him? Doubtful. You really wanted to throw up at rubbish that was leaving his mouth.

Not to mention that he was throwing dirt on Sergeant Barnes who absolutely didn’t deserve it.

“-he’s like that to all of them. The chicks. And they fucking dig him, it’s disgusting. He makes the poor brainwashed kicked puppy face, reminding the sob story of his and they’re all dropping to their knees I swear…” Jim continued, practically spitting the venomous words.

You squeezed your eyes shut, half furious and half guilty; the sergeant did have a heart-breaking backstory and many girls were making eyes on him, their hearts softened by the tragedy and his bravery, yes. And you couldn’t say it wasn’t moving you as well, filling you with compassion – but compassion only. Obviously, Sergeant Barnes was objectively a very attractive man too, but what they were saying… ugh.

He didn’t deserve these insults; he was not trying anything on anyone, he wasn’t offering his ‘sob story’, actually being rather secretive about it for obvious and no doubt painful reasons. He couldn’t really couldn’t be blamed for the girls fawning over him a bit more because of it, could he? What was he supposed to do? Stop breathing? Stop doing what he chose to be his job?

It wasn’t his problem – and thank god for that – that these two assholes had egos the size of Texas and couldn’t handle a little competition.

Seriously. Walking testosterone-filled jerks. You seriously considered moving from the station you had been given, eyeing Captain Rogers, checking if he would notice.

“Well, he’s not. Getting. Any. From. My. Chick. Asshole!”

The bag swung wildly under Henry’s blows despite Jim holding it. You laid off, taking your fifteen second break.

“I bet he’s fucking them all on side. Always so… so soft on them. I bet he’s leaving all the hard shit for bed,” Jim snorted, somewhere between angry at him competition and amused at his own crude joke.

You were gonna puke. You were sure of it.

“And he’s too hard on us. Showing off for them. I would fucking want to see him holding up against us without that metal arm-“

You had enough. You sat up sharply, panting, your face flushed, unsure whether it was from the exercise or the exchange you were listening to.

“Are you serious?!” you hissed their way, earning their shocked glances.

And then, Jim’s face twisted in annoyance and disgust.

“Oh geez, you’re one of them, aren’t you?” he snarked, rolling his eyes. “The fangirls.”

More heat burned in your cheeks. You weren’t kidding anyone; both the sergeant and the captain had showed up in your not so innocent dreams, but you were only human, alright. There was only so much time you could spend with two very fine men like them in one room, a bit sweaty and rough (or just slightly gentler with the ladies) until your brain reacted. Mostly to the captain. Not the point.

But actually crossing the line? Being a part of the thing they were describing if it ever existed? Waiting in the line until one of them picked you for the evening with a promise to do it again after they… Jesus what, tried all the others? No, thank you. You had some dignity left.

Also, you simply couldn’t imagine them doing such thing. Raised in a different era, tried by war and pain and lost, yet remaining the great men they were? Just nope.

“No! Jesus, are you even listening to yourself?” you hissed, minding your volume. You hoped that the low hum of voice in the room, of others working out, giving each other pointers and the noise of the machines would offer you a cover from the rest of your companion.

“What, you wanna tell me they’re not going easy on you? On any chick, really?”

“Yeah, well, maybe because they don’t actually want to break our bones during training. Supersoldiers. Superstrength. Does that ring a bell?” you pointed out, reaching for your water bottle, hoping either of your trainers would forgive you when seeing you only took a sec to have a sip.

Henry scoffed, leaning onto the bag. “Sounds like someone has a crush…”

You couldn’t help the motion of your hands, inconspicuously throwing them in the air in frustration.

Why were you even speaking to them? You should have kept your mouth shut!

“Oh go to hell, Ulrich! You’re just jealous and scared that your girl whom you treat like a piece of shit will run off,” you murmured, wiping your forehead off sweat.

“Yeah, because they’re sure pulling their punches with guys too,” Jim complained again, rolling his eyes as Henry now watched you, eyes narrowed in anger – oh you hit a nail on the head, alright.

You couldn’t but mirror Jim’s action, deciding to stick to Devil’s advocate, because…. yeah, because it wasn’t fair to either Rogers or Barnes. They were good people and didn’t deserve this.

“So they’re not beating the shit out of us like they do with you, get over it.”

“They’re humiliating us! Showing off their big muscles, trying to impress all the chicks-“

You chuckled incredulously as they actually admitted the real reason behind their bitching so openly; as if you hadn’t known the whole time. Ego. Ohhh, the ego was bruised. Call 911, CPR is gonna be needed! God, how did they even live with ego this big? Compensating for something?

“They’re doing their job. Training. Yes, they go a bit harder on you, because your physiology can take it. Did it ever occur to you that they have bigger problems than entering a pissing contest with you just so they could steal the girls? Jeez… just… maybe try to be less of assholes and the girls will be into you too… ”

You missed the hard look Henry gave you, laying down again, this time on your belly to work on your back.

You wheezed when a knee suddenly dug into your back, violently and painfully knocking the air out of your lungs. Before you could react, one of your arms was twisted behind your back, Henry’s voice raspy right into your ear, low and dangerous.

“Listen, you little bitch, you don’t get to talk to me like that. Understand? Huh?”

He was so proving your point, but you didn’t have the time You tried to breathe in properly, and free your arm while pushing up on the free one, your muscles burning with the effort. Shit, he was heavy. You wheezed again instead of the answer.

“Can’t hear you, sweetie. What was that?”

Peripherally, you could see heavy boots approaching rapidly, making a quick guess of who that could be. You gritted your teeth, tears of humiliation pricking your eyes. You were not about to give Henry the satisfaction of proving his point of your trainers being sweet on all the girls even if this so wasn’t that.

“Screw. You,” you let out with the last oxygen left, grabbing his left calf and sharply tugging to the very same side. A half-second later when his weight of you eased just a fraction, you threw your body to the left as well, adding a jerk of your legs.

Both of you rolled over, him ending up under you and you quickly spun away, gasping, desperately fighting for air. As it burned your windpipe, it was as painful as welcomed. Little spots danced inf ornt of your eyes, but you quickly blinked them away – luckily for you, Henry didn’t dare to attack you again.

You shook your head before pushing to sit up, only to meet with Captain Rogers’s strict gaze.

“What the hell is going on in here?” he demanded, sharp blue eyes flickering between the three of you.

Maybe you were hallucinating, but he seemed to be murdering Henry with his eyes. Uh-uh. You would have been glad he was, hadn’t Henry been talking about favouritism only few moments ago. You pushed up simultaneously with him and you both stood straight, facing the captain.

“Apologies, sir,” you stated mechanically, his gaze immediately shifting to you. Your heart stopped. Oh wow, you would swear the blue of his irises was on fire. You gulped. “We had a slight disagreement with Mr. Ulrich. I’m aware I shouldn’t have been talking to him in the first place. I’ll take whatever punishment is given to me.”

“Yeah, I bet you’d liked taking a punishment from him, wouldn’t you…” Jim muttered under his breath, making your gut twist in disgust.

Was he ever not thinking about sex? You prayed the captain didn’t hear him and you had to stop yourself from shooting Jim a murderous glare.  

“I don’t think that’s necessary. Consider it a warning. Mr. Ulrich? You have something to add before you take a few laps?”

You could literally hear Henry’s blood boiling. You opened your mouth to ask for the same punishment, not wanting to have his point proved. You never got the chance to speak.

“No, sir. I only don’t understand why I’m the only one being punished,” Henry questioned innocently and you gritted your teeth.

Maybe because you attacked me, you dickhead?

Captain glared at him for a moment before his gaze shifted to Jim. “You’re not. Mr. Larkin is following your example.”

You pressed your lips together, this time to stop a smile threatening to spread on your lips. God, who knew America’s Golden Boy could get that sassy? You cleared your throat.

“If I might speak, sir, I deserve to run the laps as well,” you noted carefully, earning a curious expression from your superior. You could tell he wavered, a strange spark appearing in his eyes.

You desperately wanted him to let you run too even if you breathing was still a bit difficult; because otherwise Henry would be proved right. Yeah, nope.

“Very well, then. Ten laps around the gym, recruits. Then you move to the station free at the moment. Go. Don’t let it happen again.”

The three of you nodded dutifully and picked up a pace. For some reason, you could feel the captain’s eyes on you while he walked back to assisting his friend with hand-to-hand training. You glimpsed the sergeant leaning to him, probably asking what was that about, but the blond just shook his head.

Towards the eighth lap, you were being overpassed by Henry and Jim, who ran together; faster than you, whether you liked it or not.

“This isn’t over, bitch,” his hateful hiss reached your ears and you picked up speed stubbornly, not showing them that they might intimidate you even for a second.

They wished.

Even when leaving the room after the session was finished, you would swear there was a pair of blue eyes burning a hole to the back of your head. You hoped that you’d soon be free of the captain’s attention.

You sure didn’t want him to watch too closely. You didn’t need him behind your back to see mistakes you sometimes made just like anybody else. Also, it would be harder to admire and ogle him; you did that occasionally, okay. You were just a human, after all.

A Handful of Mistakes

Shauna, your roommate and bestie from science division of SHIELD, was very patient listening to your lament about guys being dicks; she was awesome like that.

So you vigorously vented your frustration with male population, rolled your eyes when mimicking the silent threat of ‘this not being over’, had a very unhealthy piece of cake at the cafeteria that afternoon and moved on.  

You should have known better.

Henry’s words came haunting you few days later; which was too bad, because you had already forgotten about them, until the very moment they had punched you to the face.

…or rather to your shoulder and it wasn’t even a punch, more like one of those bumps people did, especially when they were being jerks, shoving you too hard for you to believe it was an accident.

“Sorry, didn’t see you there,” you threw over your shoulder sarcastically, continuing your way to the women’s locker room.

In hindsight, that was probably mistake number one; ignoring Henry and not starting a fight right there, not to mention being mouthy.

To be fair, you had no interest in further interaction; you were exhausted from the training, you were sticky and sweaty and all you craved was a shower. You would have just gone to have one at your dorm, but Shauna was having a hot date and you didn’t want to step on her toes. So you had taken your toiletries with you, using the showers near the gym.

Using the gym shower; mistake number two. It meant all of the students being gone by the time you emerged in fresh homey clothes, hair dripping water, because you hated hair-dryers and avoided them unless they were completely necessary.

You had spent much longer in the shower than needed, allowing your muscles to completely relax under the spray of water. That was mistake number three.

The fourth mistake was your pride. When you saw Henry, Jim, George (at least you thought, you weren’t sure, not having many classes with him) and Frank in the corridor, clearly waiting for you, since they bounced off the wall they had been resting against when you appeared, you should have probably been smarter and scream for help right away.

But no, you were being Miss Future Agent and you weren’t intimidated by four equivalents of high school jocks. Yep, this one was definitely the biggest mistake of yours.

“Fellas,” you beckoned to them, passing them gracefully, your bag over your shoulder along with the wet towel.

You barely made a few steps before a hand gripped your arm, harshly tugging you back. Your heart jumped into your throat, but you tried your best not to let it show. You turned to Henry, looking at his face, head tilted back just slightly due to his height.

“Is there a problem, Ulrich?” you asked calmly, earning a lift of his eyebrows at your tone.

“You know there is. I told you it was not over.”

You tried to ignore your pulse skyrocketing and the panic rising in your gut. You were not that stupid – you understood the implications. You knew that with four guys slowly circling you, you would have to fight bites and nails if it came to it and probably still lose. Sometimes it was just better to walk away and swallow your pride; a concept Henry and Jim clearly didn’t understand.

You jerked from Ulrich’s grip, still hoping you could walk away and call it day.

“It is over for me. Now if you’ll excuse me…“

Yes, you were being naïve thinking it would work.

The bag was torn away from your shoulder, your fingers automatically letting go to stay attached to your hand. You gritted your teeth, blood slowly reaching the boiling point.

Also, maybe you were more than just a bit afraid. Not that you would ever admit it to them.

Henry’s hand reached for your chin and your snatched it away in disgust before he could even make contact with your skin. Amusement dances in his eyes along with a flash of anger.

“Oh, kitty has claws?”

You felt another hand on your backside, sending a shudder up your spine, so you grabbed it, shoving it away as well.

Jim. Why weren’t you surprised? Pigs. What the fuck was their problem?

“I’ll let you know when I meet any. Now get out of my way,” you spat, your gut twisting as a sly grin spread on Henry’s face and he made a step right into your route.

“Or what? You’ll scratch, kitty? Or you’ll scream? Like a little girl?” he mocked you in high-pitched voice, his face lowering to yours so you were only inches apart.

“Bet you’d like that,” you murmured, narrowing your eyes when his breath with an unmistakable hint of alcohol fanned over your face. “No, I’ll offer you a breath-mint, because honestly you should do something about your breath.”

Yep, that was the mistake no.5 and definitely an enormous one.

You heard one of the guys chuckle, but you never got to enjoy the thrill of victory.

Out of blue, there was something around your neck, the weight of the towel shifting (add that to the mistake list) and your body flew backwards, colliding with a male one. George was it?

Your hands went to instinctively grab after the towel crushing your throat, but suddenly they were wrested down and pinned to your sides by strong arms. Jim had caught one, Henry another. Fucking cowards.

With your breath coming out short with both lack of oxygen and rising fear, your pulse thundering in your ears, you tried to jerk from their grip, but they wouldn’t budge, having an undeniable advantage.

Oh fuck, fuck, you were so fucked.

“Sassy little mouth, aren’t we?” Henry hummed, wry expression on his ugly face. “So dirty, feels like we should wash it with something. Who wants to go first, fellas?”

Loud alarm bells rang in your head, icy shiver running down your spine, stomach turning over.

Oh no, you don’t.

Your knee snapped up on instinct to gain the momentum, followed by a swift low kick to Jim’s knee.

He yelped and let go of your arm, allowing you to send an elbow straight to George’s face; and finally, your airways were free as the assault as the towel trap loosened.

You coughed, fighting for oxygen and mindlessly threw the item away to have at least one arm free.

“Bitch!” one of the men yelled; you weren’t sure which one, but you didn’t waste time thinking too much. Survival instinct took over.

Tears prickled in the corners of your eyes and you barely silenced the scream when Henry took advantage of your hesitation, twisting your arm behind your back. Fuck he really had a thing for that, didn’t he?

You tried to kick him, but someone else’s leg somehow managed to swept their leg under yours and you fell on your knees. Sharp tug on your hair caused you to cry out and obediently tilt your head back. Few tears escaped you, but you pushed up in attempt to get up again.

A kick coming from behind threw your body forwards and you nearly fell on your face when Henry finally let go of you. You tasted blood as you bit your cheek, but you managed to at least land on your shoulder instead of face-planting.

It still hurt like a bitch, but at least you still had all your teeth… or you thought so, not having time to check. Catching a movement from the corner of your eye, you managed to roll over before a kick to your side could hit you with full force. Frank’s foot only brushed you, but you were sure you’d have a bruise as a souvenir anyway.

A punch landed next to your face when you dodged it in the last moment, someone grabbing your legs and holding them together. Between your efforts to free them, you didn’t have time to chase away the body suddenly holding your arms as well.

“Fuck--- she’s a handful.”

A ragged battle cry erupted from your throat as you tried to jerk your body from their grip on pure instinct, every self-defence move you had ever learned flying of the window.

“More fun to break her, don’t you think?” Henry purred, his hand sneaking around your waist under the hem of your t-shirt.

Your head spun like crazy at the skin-to-skin contact and nausea hitting you hard. You wanted to puke and scream and punch and you couldn’t make yourself to do either, tears rolling down your cheeks as your body convulsed in a desperate attempt to break free.

There was ringing in your ears, disorienting you, but aware of the hand suddenly covering your mouth you tried to bite it on instinct holding you down.

“Oh-ho, biting!“ you heard, strangely muffled as if you were under water.

“I like them feisty-“

“Playing hard to get!”

“Shit, SHIT-“

The pressure on your legs eased all of sudden and you immediately kicked with all you had, catching the rising figure in the calf, knocking them off balance.

“Fuck!”

You would swear the floor vibrated, but in must have only been your mind playing tricks on you. George disappeared from your field of blurry vision; you only saw a fist sending him flying sideways.

Yep, your mind was fucking making up things, because there was no way he could have been thrown away like this by a single punch. You weren’t complaining; the relief the illusion provided was almost blissful.

Henry’s body weight vanished as well in nearly supersonic speed as if he wanted to escape the illusion. So you did the first thing that came to your mind; with your hands free, you grabbed his ankle, stopping him from running away. Which, thinking about it, was stupid, because only a moment before, you would have given anything to get him the fuck away from you.

He kicked back blindly, but his sole never met with your body – he was dragged away and… and lifted to the air as if he weighted nothing.

Blinking your tears away, your fuzzy mind cleared.

Only to reveal a very muscled and very much pissed off blond slamming Henry against a wall and then letting his suddenly unconscious body slide down.

You gasped, your eyes catching a glimpse of the fourth figure – Frank – several feet away, running for his life.

“Buck?!” came a shout and before you could question it, a metal arm emerged from behind the corner, stopping Frank dead as he rushed straight into it.

“Yep?!” the dark-haired supersoldier yelled back, sounding almost amused.

What the hell was happening? What the hell just happened?!

You blood sizzled in your veins, loud and rapid thump-thump-thump banging in your ears, face damp with several shed tears, body aching and your mind fucking racing.

You heard a whimper on your left, automatically turning to the sound. It left Jim’s lips, his form crumbled on the floor, struggling to stand up.

The captain’s knee seemed to come out of nowhere, digging into Jim’s back and pinning him down again before you even registered a movement.

“Is it fucking over now?”

“Steve, let him be. Not worth it,” Barnes’ voice tried to reason, sounding rather growly, but not nearly as loud as before. He approached your group in rapid pace and Rogers scoffed and let go.

You gulped at sergeant’s angry grimace, crazily convinced he was angry with you for all the mistakes you made that lead to this; but his expression softened when his gaze fell on you.

“Hey there,” he greeted you almost casually, holding out a hand to help you up. “Can you stand?”

You blinked several times at the suddenly dispassionate tone, even if you still sensed something bubbling under it. You shook off the thought and accepted the offered hand – the flesh one. The detail didn’t escape you, your bran in overdrive. Of course he hadn’t offered you the metal arm. He didn’t want to scare you. He was thoughtful like that-

-or not. The strength he dragged you up with was way too much for you, more so when combined with the speed and your state. You stumbled over your feet, a wave of dizziness messing with your balance.

You awaited the upcoming reunion with the floor, unable to stop the fall, but it never happened. Before you could as much as reel, gentle hands supported you in a firm grip, pleasantly warm against your bare arms.

“Whoa, take it easy,” Rogers’ voice warned you, soothing. For some reason, it felt more like ‘I got you,’ instead of ‘take it easy.’

You took a deep breath, Barnes’ hand letting go of yours as he semi-voluntarily handed you over to his friend.  

“You’re bleeding from your mouth.”

Thanks for the reminder, I noticed.

You swallowed the snarky remark, well-aware of the sergeant’s care. You fought against the urge to spit the blood out.

“Is fine…” you muttered, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. “Bit my cheek. I’m pretty sure I—“ you quickly ran your tongue over your teeth just to confirm your theory, “-still have all of my teeth.”

Sergeant Barnes gave you a tiny smile, the worried crinkle that had found its way between his brows disappearing.

“Whatever you say.”

His gaze flickered to something behind your head, probably in order of exchanging a wordless conversation with your still present crutch. Not that you were complaining. The weight of what had happened was slowly settling on your shoulders and you were grateful for any support – and who were you kidding, Captain America made for a pretty reliable support.

“Why don’t we leave you in pu- Cap’s capable hands while I-“ Barnes’ jaw clenched, pale eyes scanning the four bodies on the floor, calculating. “-take out the trash?”

You nearly choked at the choice of his words, wincing. Captain Rogers’ hands squeezed your shoulders reassuringly and you nodded, not sure what else to do.

You didn’t want to look at Henry. Or Jim. Or their loyal companions.

So when the captain carefully spun you on your heels, you didn’t protest and your feet started moving on autopilot in the direction he had set.

“You okay to walk without support?” he asked softly, a stark contrast to the voice you remembered from earlier or from the training sessions.

You knew that if you said yes, he would let go of you. Honestly, his touch felt damn nice, firm and yet somewhat gentle, a pleasant contrast to harsh fingers of the men who had the nerve to attack you – you had to swallow bile rising to your mouth at the awfully fresh memory. Fuck, it had been so close, just a minute later and--- you shook your head mentally and tried your best to erase this memory from existence.

You decided not to abuse the kindness the captain was offering. After several indulging steps, you quietly confirmed he could release you. You found out that sensing his large frame by your side as if he was your bodyguard was nearly as comforting. Nearly.

You didn’t have the strength admonish yourself for basking the light of his protective persona. Future agent of not, you still had the right to want to feel secure at times.

After all, you were only human.

A Handful of Truths

You didn’t realize you were shaking until a blanket was tossed over your shoulders.

You were sitting on a short couch in what looked like a cosy office, hair still damp, body finally registering the ache caused by previous events, just like your brain was slowly taking in what had happened.

Captain Rogers, whose courtesy was to escort you from the hellhole you had been attacked in, had clearly took it as a personal mission to take care of your injuries; it hadn’t dawned to you until you were seated and your mind helpfully supplied you with ‘This isn’t the infirmary’.

He pulled a swivel chair to sit face to face with you, a box of medical supplies left open on the coffee table at your side. You didn’t realize he had moved the chair or dug the box from god-knew-where until the items were simply there.

“How do you feel?” he inquired, attentive eyes scanning your hunched form. You instinctively curled onto yourself, snuggling further into the blanket. You knew you should come up with an answer, but your brain started to hurt with the effort to do so. “I guess that’s fair. Can you tell me what hurts the most?”

You quickly glanced at his openly kind face, his baby blues still watching for any reaction that would clue him. Your throat went dry at the compassion of display and you had to swallow before speaking – and think. What hurt the most…?

You didn’t know what possessed you to tell him what you did, but it came out before you could stop yourself.

“My pride,” you croaked, causing his eyebrows jump just like the corner of his lips.

“That’s probably fair too. Then again, I’d rather know about something I can fix.”

You felt your body relax a little at his informal tone – you might even say a jovial one, but you could still sense too much worry behind it to call it that. You attempted a tiny smile at least to show him that you were more or less fine – you weren’t – and brilliantly failed.

“Landed on my shoulder. Probably gonna have a bruise on my side from when… when they kicked me. Ribs and arms might be a bit tender for few days, ‘cause they were heavy as they--- they’re heavy,” you voice wavered as you saw the muscles on the captain’s forearms clench and his hands curled up in fists. You sheepishly looked up to his face. “I got lucky.”

His eyebrows rose again in a ‘figures’ manner as he leaned back to the chair.

“Nothing else apart from that, your cheek and your pride?”

“I’m a little cold, but you took care of that,” you admitted, taking a deep breath in as you tugged on the blanket pointedly.

Despite what you were saying, you didn’t feel okay, the tremble never quite leaving your body. It wasn’t hard to figure out why. You stared at your knight in shining armour, gathering courage to do what was needed. You tried your best to meet his gaze, feeling so small and embarrassingly weak in front of him.

“Could have been much worse if you haven’t showed up. Thank you.”

He pressed his lips together, shaking his head. He leaned in, his elbows on his knees.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t faster... I should have kept closer eye on Ulrich,” he muttered under his breath, making you wonder if you only imagined it. “Your pride shouldn’t be hurt. You held yourself against them just fine.”

Your heart skipped a beat at the honestly his voice held – and you were honestly grateful for the slight shift of attention. Oh. Had he forgotten how things had been when he had arrived?

You weren’t sure whether you should remind him. You definitely didn’t want to remind yourself, but before you could solve your little dilemma, he clarified.

“You haven’t started training the combat against multiple opponents yet. Let alone four opponents, all of them having both height and weight advantage. You couldn’t exactly go all Black Widow on them if no one showed you how.”

He accented his words with a reassuring smile and you almost believed him. The shivers finally eased, most likely thanks to the warm treatment you were being given in all senses of the word. The inner cold gradually melted and you were left in nothing but pleasant warmth.

Mentally, you patted your pride gently on its head; you couldn’t quite disagree with him. No matter how helpless you had felt earlier and how ashamed for it you were, the truth was you were still learning. You weren’t a finished agent yet.

You breathed in and out, avoiding the gaze that was still on you. It felt like a freaking brand with how intense it was. You couldn’t say you hated it necessarily, you only wished you at least didn’t look so pathetic. No make-up, probably red with a smudge on blood somewhere, perhaps with some bruising already forming, hair wet and messy. You absently ran your fingers through it in attempt to fix it a bit as if it could help.

What had you been talking about? Right… those assholes being cowards and coming at your four against one.

“I… I just fucking hate bullies,” you grumbled darkly, your hand immediately covering your mouth when you realized what you had said. Oh. Language. Still your superior you’re talking to, no matter how nice. “Sorry. Please, pretend you didn’t hear the f-word. I just hate bullies, period.”

“I might have sworn earlier too, so let’s call it even,” the captain offered, one corner of his lips raised. Oh. He had, hadn’t he? ‘Is it fucking over now?’ What did that even mean? “And so I heard.”

“What?” you yelped, your mind racing again in search for the meaning behind his words.

“I mean… I heard you. When you were defending Bucky, in the gym. I’m pretty sure your exact words were about a ‘pissing contest’.”

“Oh god,” you breathed out, your face no doubt set aflame. He had heard you; that was why he had said he should have kept a closer eye on Henry. Oh. Ohhhh.

Also, did he just say ‘pissing’?

“You weren’t wrong by the way. But… neither were them.”

You blinked in surprise. What? “About?”

You knew he didn’t mean the sleeping around with recruits, your gut was screaming that at you, because they wouldn’t, but still, you rather asked for clarification. If he didn’t mean that part, which one then?

“Ladies do fall over for Bucky,” he hummed with a lopsided smile, a playful twinkle in his eyes. It did something to your belly, a strange familiar shift that was very inappropriate, but hell, people needed to cut you some slack. He was impossible not to ogle and you didn’t have the energy to control your reaction after today’s events. “And I don’t really pull my punches when I’m training those two in particular.”

“Why?” you blurted out before you could stop yourself and think better of it.

His gaze bored into yours, burning with intensity and with a glint of something you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

“I don’t like bullies either.”

Did he lean in even more or were you so focused on his face it only seemed closer?

You weren’t able to look away. His blue eyes simply locked you in, not allowing you to escape. The strangest thing was that it wasn’t scary. It should be, he was— he was a freaking captain, your superior, a superior to a lot of people, which you were constantly forgetting ever since he had saved you from falling on your ass in the hallway and you had to remember that.

Before you could though, your racing mind packed up and let your body, your mouth to be precise, act without supervision.

“Not trying to impress the ladies then, huh?”

His tiny sheepish smile cut off the uprising panic in your chest when you realized how bold of you was to say that. He lowered his gaze, giving a subtle shrug. “Guess I wouldn’t want one falling for guy’s muscles and a show-off of dominance.”

“What for then? Honesty? Sincerity? Kind eyes? Strong moral compass?” you heard yourself prying, internally horrified how far you had come when saying that. Your face was drained of colour when it clicked. You were literally naming things you liked about him, absolutely shamelessly putting them in the open. Oh shit. Fix it, fix it, fix it! “…the sass?”

His eyes went wide and he burst out laughing so loud it startled you for a second, especially as he threw his head back with the outburst. Then you reluctantly joined him, covering your face with your hands in embarrassment.

“The sass!” he howled, unable to hold back another fit of laughter and when you peeked at him through between your fingers, you saw his palm resting against his chest as if it could help him stop laughing.

Just like that, blood rushed back into your cheeks.

“Oh god, I made it worse!” you cried out, wishing for the earth to swallow you, frantically looking around for the fastest escape route. “Oh my god, I have to switch schools now… excuse me-“

You hastily got up from your seat, but a quick hand snatched yours, pulling you back.

You stumbled, landing ungracefully right back in your place, this time without the blanket. Captain Rogers was watching you with the corners of his lips high, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

“Sorry for grabbing you like that. But no, please. Stay.”

Your throat closed off when you heard his soft plea, only traces of humour in it. Yeah, you bet he hadn’t met anyone with such big mouth for a while, so he thought it was better to keep the comic around.

“Captain Rogers, I-I- what I said, it was completely out of line-“ you stuttered, only to be interrupted.

“Were you making it up?” he questioned.

You gulped, your mind screaming at you to say yes to save you the humiliation. And yet, with the cerulean irises staring into your eyes, your mouth did the exact opposite.

“No.”

Dammit.

“Then why would you go?” he questioned softly. His hand still didn’t leave yours, only easing the grip into a kinder one. You felt like a brand was being burned into your skin. A pleasant one, so you didn’t retreat. Oh, you’d never. But what on Earth was he getting at? “We need someone honest like you. People who stand up for others, even if only to defend their honour. That is the kind of people who should be in this line of work. The good ones.”

You opened your mouth, no sound coming out as his speech shook you to your core, tickling your stomach pleasantly along with your pride. His words seemed to be coming from heart, genuine, which was not helping your blood pressure and suddenly wobbling limbs.

“Even when they have potty mouth and put their foot in it? ‘Cause I seem to excel in that.”

“Especially then,” he chuckled and you could tell there was no pinch of a lie in it.

Something was in the air, crackling deliciously, and you liked it. You wouldn’t be able to describe it properly, the feeling simply too unique, but it was tickling your fancy so weren’t about to complain.

“O-okay. Thank you, Captain,” you whispered, revelling in the sight of the gentle curve of his lips.

“You started with the compliments, Agent.”

And just like that, you wanted to run for your life again, drowning in embarrassment.

What were you even still doing here? Complimenting him? Enjoying his touch? Flirting with him?

Were you nuts?!

Him, a captain— no, the captain. And you, an agent--- hell, you were not even an agent yet!

The captain whose eyes flickered to not-an-agent’s lips for the shortest of moments, widening a fraction before returning to her eyes.

Oh, now you were definitely going nuts. You were hallucinating. You must have hit your head too. He wasn’t into you and you being into him was very stupid.

You should go.

…any moment now.

…just get off your ass for god’s sake-

“Can I ask you something?”

You blinked yourself back to reality, shushing the voice in your head, curious smile appearing on your lips involuntarily. The softness of his voice felt better than the blanket before and you wanted to cocoon yourself in it, postponing the leaving plans to never.

“Sure,” you replied, the smile remaining on your face despite your better judgement.

He lowered his eyes to your joined hands, his thumb running over the back of your hand in a feather-light touch. You heart positively stopped at the moment, your breath hitching. Holy shit, what was he doing?

“This, does it… do you hate it?” he whispered the question, not meeting your eyes as if he was too shy, which was… ridiculous. He had no reason to be shy.

It still felt like a shot through your heart – a nice one, though, it that was possible. The words combined with the way they were spoken, it stirred something in your belly, warming it up and you couldn’t deny it anymore.

You really wanted this man; whatever this was, it was getting beyond a silly crush. Also, for some reason, it seemed as if he was trying to tell you he was interested too, which you thought was pretty freaking crazy.

“Stay honest, please,” he pleaded when you didn’t answer right away.

Did you hate it? The chastest display of affection if you dared to call it that? Your mind raced, trying to figure out why on earth he would ask that. Because the only reason you had come up with so far was completely impossible.

“No,” you said simply, earning a brief glance up before he looked down again. His Adam’s apple bobbed.

“Good. That’s good… and would you… I’m aware this is out of line and I—I want you to answer truthfully without fearing the consequences-…“

It was your turn to swallow loudly, because what? What did he want to ask that he considered it out of line? He was your superior – you could think of thousand ways of how you could get out of line, but him? And why should you fear the consequences?! Did he want you to help him to hide a body?

That’s not it and you know it. You know what he wants to ask, you rational side admonished you.

Oh please, shut up. Since when you switched sides?

“O-okay. What— what is it-- Steve?” you stuttered out, freezing when his name left your lips and his head snapped up, his hand giving yours a squeeze. Oh boy.

“Would you possibly say you like it?” he blurted out and your brain went to overdrive at the hope behind his expression.

Huh. He really just asked that. Oh shit. Oh wow. Your jaw fell into your lap – only figuratively, you hoped –, your ears buzzing, your blood bursting in excitement.

Oh yeah, you understood why he mentioned the consequences. Either you could say no and you’d fear he might treat you differently or you could say yes and you’d ‘fear’ he might treat you differently.

The fire in your insides burned hotter at the idea of the latter.

His hand slowly left yours, giving you a simple choice you still couldn’t believe you were given.

Holy shit. What do you even say to something like that? Coming from someone like him? Your brain froze as you only managed to stare.

Did his— did the corners of his lips turn down? Was that sadness pooling in the sea of blue of his eyes?

Oh no, you don’t.

“Y-yes,” you admitted sheepishly, closing your eyes at the heaviness of your confession.

You could feel the weight on your shoulders as silence fell, only interrupted by your soft breathing that sounded ominously loud.

Your fingers twitched when his warm palm covered them again, your lips parting in surprise. You kept your eyes closed, indulging the strange moment. His free hand caressed your other as well, the gentlest of touches, tender, contrasting with rough callouses on his fingers.

“I like it too.”

At that, you gathered enough courage to look at him, only to see him inspecting your face closely, observing your reactions. It shocked you that it wasn’t uncomfortable as you would expect; must have been the kindness and wonder in his gaze. You forced your lips to curl up in a tiniest smile. Steve smiled back with same hesitance, his face lighting up.

He looked like a boy next door (making it to a modelling agency), shining eyes and happy grin forming on his lips. He was more gorgeous than ever.

Still keeping your hands, he raised his right one, his knuckles brushing your unharmed cheek. The gesture was so tender it brought tears into your eyes, causing him quickly retreat.

“Sorry-“

You shook your head with a self-deprecating chuckle, squeezing his fingers before he could let go of you completely.

“It’s not you—I mean… it is you,” you babbled nonsensically, taking a breath to gather your thoughts. “It’s just— that was really sweet. No, that’s not-“ Not the right word. “It was beautiful. I swear I never felt so…” loved “-cared for in my life.”

He frowned, a shadow of pain running over his face. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I know that today was… unpleasant.”

Seeing his reluctance and discomfort, you went for the first thing that came up to your mind. You straightened up and pressed a light kiss on his cheek, withdrawing much slowly because once you were in his orbit, it was hard to leave.

His breath hitched, his eyes glued to you intently, flickering to your lips again.

“You didn’t upset me, Steve. That’s the last thing you could do with that,” you assured him, face still inches from his. His name rolled off your tongue easily this time, even though it still left your heart fluttering.

“And if I asked you to have dinner with me?”

Your stomach twisted in a pleasant knot at that suggestion, your lizard brain already thinking about having a dessert for a second; and you weren’t thinking cake or ice-cream.

Yeah, barely. This was a guy ready to treat you right, you were sure of it. He certainly wasn’t about to kiss you now, not afar what happened today, he might go for it after the dinner and that was only if you got lucky enough. You swallowed the disappointment at the idea, quickly shaking it off.

Make up your goddamn mind, woman. You should be glad that men who weren’t thinking with their lower brain still existed and one of those was clearly interested in you, which… yeah, what the hell, that might take a while getting used to. Add the fact that he was being incredibly considerate of how you might feel after being assaulted and you had a winner of your heart. You realized you were actually happy he wouldn’t try anything even nearly ‘funny’.

You were fine with hand-holding and brushes of his fingers on your face, which honestly, the tenderness behind that gesture made you toes curl. You didn’t care much if that made you a freaking sap.

“Still not upset,” you gave an answer at last, deciding he probably liked when you were a bit cheeky.

He offered a closed lipped smile in response, confirming your theory.

“Does that count like a yes?”

You shrugged, the corners of your lips twitching. You had no idea when the change had happened, but all you wanted now was to giggle. And maybe snuggle, but you weren’t about to say that out loud.

“You tell me.”

He licked his lips and shook his head as he retreated. Before you could protest – or have a heart attack, because the motion of his tongue attracted your gaze like a magnet, setting your core on fire –, he sat beside you, leaving enough space in case you didn’t like it.

You liked it, subtly moving an inch closer to his side. Damn, he radiated warmth. Maybe just a bit closer…?

“Cheeky dame, aren’t you?” Steve more stated than asked, reaching for the blanket pooled around you to cover you again.

You didn’t realize you had goosebumps before his hands gently tugged you in, careful not to touch you where you could consider it inappropriate.

Yeah, forget about any funny business any time soon.

You huffed. “Clearly. It did get me into trouble before.”

His eyes darkened a bit, his face noticeably falling.

No, nope, bad move, miss not-an-agent.

“I should walk you back to your dorm,” he remarked, already rising to his feet.

You first reaction was to say no, because you weren’t ready to say goodbye yet. Your second was to say no also, because Shauna probably still had her hot date.

Instead, your hand shot up to catch his, effectively stopping him. He froze before returning to his seat, tiny question mark in a place of his face right next to his soft smile.

You cleared your throat, deciding to give him the latter reason.

“Uhm… my roommate has a date. If I go there, I’ll probably find a sock on the doorknob,” you admitted, biting your lip when he raised an eyebrow and relaxed to the cushions.

“People still do that?”

You chuckled, the fact that not only he was a captain, but also Captain America, which meant he was about hundred years old, hitting you like a train.

“Yeah, people still do that,” you assured him, amused.

He pouted, which you found unfairly adorable and… kissable. Nope, later.

“Sure, make fun of the old man…” he uttered, but a spark of laughter lighted up in his irises, so you assessed he wasn’t too offended. He was most likely used to the teasing.

As an idea of interpreting his words differently popped in your mind, you grinned.

“Is that a permission to make fun of Sergeant Barnes?” you pried playfully, sending Steve into another surprised fit of laughter, not unlike when you had complimented his sass. Your heart swelled at the joyful picture of him and the prospect of seeing more of it in future.

Due to his laughter, you didn’t hear he knock on the door if there was any n the first place. The door simply swung open, revealing the other supersoldier. Speak of the Devil…

Seeing his friend, Steve burst out laughing once more. Sergeant Barnes closed the door with a puzzled look.

You just shrugged in response, opening your mouth without a sound coming out and he took in the scene in front of him again, a smirk appearing on his lips. Under that gaze, you felt your face heat up. You could only imagine how that looked like, Steve cosily close to you, laughing, your hand right next to his thigh as his outburst had sent it sliding from his hand.

The smirk on the supersoldier’s face only deepened when he noticed how flustered he had made you.

“Punk?” he questioned and Steve wheezed once more, raising a palm in the sergeant’s direction, turning to you first.

He offered you a hand to shake. Confused, you accepted as his eyes twinkling in mischief bored into yours.

“Deal,” he mouthed, sending your lips twitching, and only then he shifted his attention to his friend. “Buck?”

The supersoldier had his eyes narrowed, watching you suspiciously.

“I’m gonna regret sending you with her instead of doing it the other way around, aren’t I?” he stated, not actually asking as his gaze flickered between the two of you.

His expression pushed you over the edge and the giggle building up in your chest for the last few minutes finally broke free. You simply couldn’t contain it anymore despite having two superiors in the room. Steve gave you a warm smile as the sound left your lips, clearly not bothered by it.

You hoped you’d be forgiven by Sergeant Barnes as well. After all, you were just human.

“Yeah, Buck, I think you are.”

S.R. masterlist

Sorry for the cavities at the end. Or should I say ‘you’re welcome’? Whatever works for you :))

Thank you for reading! 

[inkformyblood]

You Speak Of Grace

Commander Cody Week Day 02 Origins [ @commandercodyweek ]

Pairing: Codywan

Summary: Cody is about to meet his new Jedi, but he will make sure his men are as prepared as they can be. Little does he know that Obi-Wan is anything but what he was expecting.

“Once more.” Cody’s voice rang out as the test alarms died away, eliciting a fresh wave of groans from the assembled clones. From behind his helmet, Cody glanced over the group, running through the list in his mind once again. The heavy gloves hid the faint trembling of his hands as his fingers danced over the datapad, drawing up another scenario. “Test Scenario 00726. Oya!”

Distantly, Cody could almost hear Alpha-17’s low rumbling laugh echo forth from his memory at their displays of grumbling compliance. He carefully ignored the brother at the back — Crys, he thought, judging from the bright yellow daubed over his pauldrons and the dark hair growing up through the unnatural yellow dye — who ducked behind a console and emerged after swallowing down the last dregs of his caf.

The consoles rang shrilly as they ran through the necessary checks once more, heads lowered as the other clones focused on their own work. Cody sensed movement just behind him, but didn’t turn, watching the grey painted shape of Helix, their medic, move up behind him in the reflection of a console.

“Permission to speak freely, sir?”

Helix’s voice was soft but no less filled with purpose, expecting to be heard and understood. Cody was the Commander of the Battalion, but Helix was the medic, and that was something entirely different.

“Granted.”

Helix tapped the comm on his wrist, shifting to a private channel, and Cody stifled the reflexive twinge of fear that rattled down his spine. Fear was useful, Alpha-17 had barked at the younger clones in the Command Track, echoing the words of the trainers before him, but it was also dangerous. Drawing in a deep breath, letting it flow through him rather than rule his thoughts, Cody switched to the private channel as well.

“You are doing a good job,” Helix murmured, his voice slightly distorted over the comm. “You are already a good commander, and having a Jedi won’t change that.”

Cody didn’t respond, didn’t want to think about what Helix could read in the sudden stillness of his hands or the lines of tension that flickered into life along his shoulders, but merely nodded, his throat tight.

Helix lightly tapped the back of his wrist guard against Cody’s hip in a silent benediction. “I’m going to head down to medical. Over the next few days, I’ll need to check on the troopers and the Jedi to get a baseline.”

“I’ll draw up a rota,” Cody promised, adding yet another item onto his mental checklist. Dimly, he spared a thought for how his brothers in the command track were faring. Their own comms channel had been eerily quiet since they had received their battalion allocations and left in the early hours of the morning with one final message each of “Oya”.

“Appreciate it,” Helix said with an inclination of his head and stepped away. The other medics, Border and Patience, shadowed him like ghosts, barely half a step behind in a haunting unison that would have made the trainers proud.

Cody turned back to the men, tracking their progress as they worked through the machines, feeling a warm glow of pride settle in his chest. This would work. This had to work.

A warning prickled at the base of his skull, and Cody was already turning to face the doorway by the time his mind had drawn the context clues together.

As Helix left, his pace had slowed slightly, and the soft whoosh of the doors closing took longer than it should have. One of the troopers had raised his head, gaze fixed at something over Cody’s shoulder as one of his hands formed the beginning of the symbol for ‘Mother’, a warning of being watched back on Kamino. But the critical clue was the message flashing from the Command Track Chat from Bly that only read ‘oh no my Jedi’s hot.’

“Hello there.”

“Hello, sir,” Cody said, running on instinct as the rest of his mind went blissfully blank. The only information he had been given was a name and a grainy holo picture to recognise his Jedi by. A small thrill ran down his spine at that thought. Possession was still something all the clones were getting used to, and the knowledge that this man was his, was theirs, was more than Cody could have thought possible.

“Jetti on bridge,” Cody barked over his shoulder to the others, feeling the weight of their eyes on his back.

Obi-Wan smiled, the edges of his eyes — so unbelievably blue, like the point where the ocean met the sky — crinkling. “Please, Commander, call me Obi-Wan.”

“Obi-Wan,” Cody repeated with a nod, further committing it to memory. He was grateful for the helmet that was still covering his head as he felt the heat settle in his cheeks. Full armour was cumbersome for now, but it had been better to be safe than sorry.

“From what I understand, you have names as well?” Obi-Wan’s gaze darted around the room; his voice pitched low. “I don’t wish to cause any offence; this situation is very new to me.” He tucked his hands into his sleeves, clasping them in front of him.

“CC-2224 is my designation. But my name is Cody, sir.”

It was as if Cody’s words ripped the oxygen from the room, every trooper freezing in place in perfect military rest. Obi-Wan had to feel the pressure lowering onto his shoulders, but he merely grinned once more.

“Cody. That’s an excellent name and a good choice.” Obi-Wan paused, glancing around the room and meeting the gaze of every trooper who quickly lowered their heads back to their consoles at Cody’s signal.

“I trust I can count on you to keep me right, Cody? I will defer to your expertise.” Obi-Wan’s grin was as warm as sunlight, intoxicating when it was directed at just Cody, and he felt his cheeks burst with heat once more.

“Yessir,” Cody said, snapping back into parade rest out of habit.

“I’m not sure what the Kamioans have told you, but if you’re amenable, full armour outside of active combat isn’t required.” Obi-Wan paused with a heavy sigh, looking far older than he was for a moment before he pushed whatever memory it was away. “This isn’t my first war, but no need to make it harder than it needs to be.”

“So,” Cody swallowed, turning his head slightly to track Boil and Waxer’s whispering, their heads pressed together out of the corner of his eye, “Permission to dismiss the men to store their extras?”

“Permission more than granted, Commander.”

If Cody had thought that his mind went blank before, it was nothing compared to being alone on the bridge with Obi-Wan. In every scenario, every training simulation or exercise, nothing could have prepared him for this moment. Alpha-17 and the others took after Prime almost perfectly, and that applied to his lack of attraction as well, at best able to offer rough support to a heartbroken trooper in basic training.

Obi-Wan began to move around the bridge, glancing over the simulated manoeuvres that had been programmed in with a gleam of interest in his eyes. “If you want, Cody, you can store your belongings as well. We’re going to be working together for a while, and I see no reason to start out with extreme formality.”

Cody’s hands were steady as he reached up to remove his helmet, subtly pressing at the itch that had erupted two hours ago at the nape of his skull as he did so. Obi-Wan’s face softened as he watched him, unable to hide the obvious curiosity in his eyes.

“I can definitely see the resemblance.”

Cody laughed, the noise startled out of him, jaw snapping shut with a click.

“I’m sorry, sir,” he began, but Obi-Wan cut him off with a wave of his hand, his shoulders shaking with barely suppressed laughter.

“Please, don’t apologise, Cody. If there is anyone at fault, then it is me.”

“No, sir.” Cody paused to find the correct words, tapping his fingers against the edge of the datapad as he thought. This wasn’t what he had been expecting, Obi-Wan wasn’t what he had been expecting, but he always had been quick on his feet. “As you said, no reason to start out with extreme formality. No fault here.”

Obi-Wan hummed quietly as he thought, and Cody took a moment to inspect the Jedi he would be serving under. The robes hid much of his frame, but Obi-Wan had moved with confidence, despite the fact that the fabric wouldn’t give much protection or possibly act as a hindrance. Cody made another note on his mental list, needing to confer with the other Commanders once everyone had settled again.

“I think this is going to be an excellent partnership, Cody,” Obi-Wan said at last. “With that in mind, with the full reassurance that you can tell me no at any time for whatever reason, would you like to join me for a cup of tea? I believe there is some final paperwork to go over.”

“Yessir,” Cody answered before the full implication hit him. Obi-Wan would be sharing, even serving most likely, something precious of his, something he had deliberately chosen to bring aboard a battleship, knowing the cargo restrictions. “I’d be honoured.”

“Excellent! Anakin, my padawan—” Obi-Wan paused, and Cody wordlessly fell into pace at his side, a few inches shorter than the other man as he titled his head to continue watching him, “—he never quite got the taste for it, unfortunately.”

“I am looking forward to it, sir.”

Obi-Wan gave him a look, his grin all fond curled edges.

“Obi-Wan,” Cody corrected himself. He felt like a fool to hope, but it was a hope he held onto tightly.

Out of sight, Cody tapped a message into the Command Chat before silencing it, knowing the explosions it would spawn. ‘Mine’s better, vod.’

[bonktime]

Take a Breath

Ezra (Prospect) x AFAB!reader Oneshot (no use of y/n)

Masterlist

Rated: Explicit

Summary: Your ship has crashed on a planet with low oxygen. With no other options you begin a tenuous partnership with a strange prospector in need of your help fixing his pod. He’s charming but dangerous and if he finds out the whole truth about you, you’ll probably end up dead. With trouble closing in from all sides, you navigate this new connection and hope you both survive in one piece.

Warnings: Swearing, descriptions of violence, blood and death, mentions of religion, sexual harassment (just a couple comments), me having no clue what asphyxiating is actually like, Two has a clear helmet for plot reasons, smut: unprotected PinV sex (there’s no STDs in space), cunnilingus, dom/sub elements, rough sex, size kink, choking (just a little), spitting, praise kink (this one surprised me), biting, a little dirty talk (it is Ezra) - let me know if I’ve missed anything!

Note: I was totally inspired to create this by @jura-moon​ ‘s fic Nostromo which lives in my head and without it, this never would have been written. I have used some of her story beats and ideas so absolute credit goes to her for that. This is sort of a fanfic of Nostromo in many ways 💘 I’d also like to throw thanks at @absurdthirst who reawakened my love of fics, @slater-baby who awoke something in me specifically, and especially to @danniburgh who not only deals with my damn near weekly requests for softness but who also got me to stop editing at 1am whilst drinking tequila. She did us all a favour, let’s be honest.

I hope everyone enjoys this behemoth. Don’t forget to reblog!

Wordcount: 22k

~~~~~~~~

It's not the worst planet to crash on.

The thought is so ridiculous you'd laugh if it wasn't for the blaring alarms and the screaming. Instead, you wrestle into the pilot’s seat and strap in. With the engine dead you'll have to manually time releasing the parachute. It's completely insane. Too early and the parachute burns, you crash into the ground and die. Too late and the parachute doesn't catch you, you crash into the ground and die. Provided you do survive you've at least got your suit on, oxygen tank attached, you'll be able to breath. The planet's oxygen is too low to survive for longer than two hours alone but it'll aid the tank and give you two days, three if you're careful, to get more. At least it isn't poisonous.

Thoughts all over the place you wonder where the other ship will fall. Hopefully close enough you can still make use of it. Hopefully they've got a good pilot.

You've been lucky this far, now all you can do is hope your luck holds. You break atmosphere flames blurring the view of the planet and then it's rushing to meet you. You start counting, watching it come closer, closer. You see the other ship careen away from you.

“Fuck!” Someone behind you shouts “Pull the damn lever are you trying to kill us all?!”

You ignore them, don't lose count. Ok

Three… two… one…

You close your eyes and pull.

You don't open your eyes.

No. For the first time in years. You pray.

⧫⧫⧫

Pain is the first thing you register, across your chest aches like, well, like you've just crashed a ship. The next is the smell, smoke, that can't be good, it's not entirely unpleasant though. Then the noise, someone's shouting in your ear telling you to get up, to move, they swear and leave you dangling upside down, still strapped into the pilots’ seat. Oh, that's why your chest hurts, ok, you think to yourself, you’re alive. You need to move. You need to open your eyes.

You do.

Lights are flashing, disorientating you more than your current position, blood rushing to your head. You reach up and press the release on the seat belt and drop to the floor, or maybe the ceiling, head first. Didn't think that one through you chastise yourself.  The engine is on fire, filling the hull with smoke but your legs are numb so, seizing your pack where it’s fallen beside you, you crawl to the light you think is the door and to your relief, flop outside.

No one notices you. They're all looking away, throwers out and pointed into the dead trees you sit back against the ship still reeling from the crash, too slow to realise how absolutely fucked you are. They come out the trees fast, even with spears and blades, you watch as the crew falls one by one. You can't process what you're seeing, frozen in place. Blood splatters, coming down like rain around you. Too late your body reacts and you stumble to your feet and run.

You get out of sight and then you stop, panting. Every breath aches your chest.

Something's wrong. Something you're not seeing. Right before your eyes. What is it?!

It hits you, slowly like a wave, realisation and then panic. You reach up slowly and touch your head. Gloves come away wet and dark with your blood.

Your helmet is shattered.

You aren't sure if you're crying or blood is dripping into your eyes. You suspect the blood. Feeling numb you keep moving, one foot in front of the other vaguely glancing down at the dial on your arm. After the running you'll be unconscious in at best an hour and a half, dead a little after that.

The petrified forest seems to close in around you. It’s a stillness like you’ve never experienced. Trees tower above you, skeletal branches reaching up like fingers. The limbs cast dark shadows in the bright sun, crossing over the dry brush underfoot, hiding foot falls and branches to trip on.

You walk on.

⧫⧫⧫

15 minutes left.

You decide to find a place to sit, ideally somewhere with a view but you can't me picky. A fallen tree does the job and you pull off the remainder of your helmet. Trying not to think about your imminent demise you look up. The suns are low, three of them. It twinges in your chest that you'll never go home, never see that sky again. Left to rot alone, no one who knows your traditions to perform your rites. Not that you deserve them. If you're going to put the ring back on, now would be the time. Make penance, but you don't think you can. Perhaps the hundred years wait is what you deserve.

7 minutes left.

There's someone approaching. Silhouetted against the scorching red sky, the heat rising from the ground distorting them, making you wonder if you’re hallucinating. The only clue they’re real is the crunch of the ground beneath their feet, but even that seems to echo around you.

Hope is the thing with feathers and it just flaps a wing wearily in your chest. And then stutters. The sun glints off their pistol, a beautiful sparkle that dims your hope. You do what you're good at, grab your own and shoot first. His gun flies from his hand and you smile, at least your aim is true. It falls off your face as quickly as it appears though as you feel a barrel press into your skull.

Clever buggers divided and conquered.

You drop your thrower but whoever it is doesn't lower theirs. “A little creature all alone,” a low voice drawls, “No helmet? No breath? What will we do with you?”

Staring straight at the man in front as he picks up your pistol and glares at you, you respond. “If we are going to chat, can we do it wherever your pod is? I have quite a story but I'll be dead in…” you look down at your dial, the gun increases its pressure on your skull as you try to suppress the panic “In about 5 minutes” the man remains silent, his pistol staying pressed into your skull. Your mind races, trying to find a way to argue your survival and clutches at the one thing you have. “I chose not to kill your friend when I could have done. Can you at least hear me out?”

The man behind you clicks his tongue “Ok! Well, I'm certainly intrigued and I'm sure even my partner here can't disapprove of allowing you to argue your case.” The comment seems pointed like he'll definitely disagree but even as you see his mouth twist he stays silent. “On your feet creature I'm not inclined to lug you back myself.” Standing the man lowers the thrower into your back and gently pushes you forward.

Their pod is close but you're feeling dizzier by the second and don't even think to protest when, as soon as you're in and the doors shut, the man at your back ties your hands behind you.

Focusing on him as he moves in front of you and pulls off his helmet you notice he’s favouring one arm and despite his sharp brown eyes, he looks feverish and drained. Not paying it much thought, you breathe deeply feeling sharper but it only draws your attention back to the pain in your body. Kevva you're tired. The urge to lie down and rest is near overwhelming, but the one who talks is eyeing you coldly for weakness, you’re no use if you can’t even stand.

Still, you try to get your bearings. The pod is small and rectangular, they haven’t turned the lights on and the looming shadows seem to pull in the walls, making your saviours into giants, making you feel like you’re pledging your case to The Olympians. There’s a small bench with a couple chairs next to a tiny stove and sink, there’s only one cot up against the wall, opposite what could be a cupboard but your eyes can’t make it out in the dim light.

“Now then creature, it's not every day we come across such a little thing with no air on this breathless planet and certainly not one who can shoot so damn straight!” The chuckles “I am just fascinated to know how you got into this predicament.”

You nod thinking carefully about your words. “We were a prospecting crew,” that's definitely a lie, “I'm an engineer but I know how to dig.” Well that's true at least, “Our ship fell of orbit but I managed to deploy the chutes in time so we didn't die on impact but…” you close your eyes as the images of the blood flashes before you.

“Let me guess your theatrical entrance gathered a welcoming party?”

“Something like that, I didn't realise my helmet had broken right away, I managed to run… I think everyone else is dead.” In a way you hope they are, else you really are in trouble.

The man is grinning at you, showing his teeth but the calculating gaze doesn’t falter “An engineer I'll be damned! And you can dig too? This is my lucky day. We happen to be in need of an engineer. See, our little pod has seen some better days and now it is unwilling to fly. Say, if you can fix it up and help us dig a smidgen, save us some time, we'll give you a lift out when the time comes? Quid pro quo”

An unwanted thought strikes you, settling deep in your stomach like a stone. “That sounds like a great deal but I won't be able to help you, not unless you supply me with a helmet.”

With that the other man seems to reach the end of his patience. And he moves gesturing at the talker.

“Now then, it just doesn't seem right to let such a pretty little thing suffocate on this rock... Well, I can't argue with that I suppose… I do apologise, little creature, I find myself, however unwittingly, agreeing with my partner. If you can’t help us then I can find no reasonable excuse to waste our resources on you. Looks like the deals off” he sighs “This is disappointing, I had such high hopes for our association.” With a shrug he pats your shoulder in sympathy that doesn’t meet his eyes. You shouldn't have hoped, your lucks all spent.

You take a deep breath, mind racing to find a way to survive, “Untie my hands at least, I'd appreciate some dignity as I walk to meet my maker.” You glance at your pack on the floor, you won’t need it now.

He pauses for a second, seeming to size you up before nodding and turning you around to face the door. In the reflection of the glass, you see the profile of his sharp features as he looks back, “Now then two, surely you can do the creature the quick the justice of a shot rather than a slow suffocation… Right good.” He cuts your hands loose and instantly the other man is there pressing his thrower into your back. You walk together, back into the waste.

There's only one way you're getting out of this so you close your eyes for a second and pause. He shoves you, lifting his gun to the back of your head. You take a breath and act.

Bending forwards and shoving your elbow up into his arm so the shot goes over your head, you spin knocking the gun aside and grab the small switchblade concealed in your pocket. He should have searched you. You don't hesitate as you stab him in the heart, following him to the ground and wrenching his helmet off. You close your eyes as the light leaves his.

Shaking off the nausea clamouring at you, you pull out the blade blanching as it sprays blood across you. You wipe it clean before stowing it away and then swipe a hand across your face, there’s no way to tell whether the deep red that rubs off on your hand is his or yours, or someone else’s. Feelin around in your pockets for a coin, you suppose the least you can do is pay his boatman so you place the coin under his tongue. You don’t pray. The dead don’t need it.

Ezra watches as you perform this strange ritual, he had to admit that he's captivated. Perhaps his wound has rotted so much he's delirious, finally driven mad by the toxins. Perhaps that was why he agreed to free your hands, why he didn’t check you for a blade. He considers you as he watches, so determined to stay alive.

You pull off the man's suit grateful he's small, even if it'll still swamp you, and grab his helmet. Stripping your own suit quickly you ignore the bandages on your forearm and pull his on. The fit isn't bad, it still seals around your wrists and ankles but it’s loose at your neck. You've got 12 minutes before you pass out unless you fix the hole your own knife made and get a tank of oxygen.

You look at the pod, the other man is watching you. Brown eyes piercing yours as if looking into your soul. It's him or nothing. You've got to try.

You approach the pod carrying your suit. Looking through the glass in the door and you gesture a setting for your radio, there’s a click followed by his harsh breathing.

“That was not especially kind, little creature. I certainly underestimated your ferociousness”

You shrug, “It was him or me.”

“What makes your existence so exponentially more important than his d’you think?”

You frown, “I didn't decide that it did, the powers that be choose. I did bring a knife to a gunfight” He smiles slightly and lets out a little chuckle.

Ezra watches you carefully, you look so tired, so small as you lean against the door of the pod his feverish brain seems to be attempting to soften a long-hardened heart. Still, he's not an idiot. “I'm afraid letting you in may be a detriment to my state of being, creature, you are indeed viscous and I'm not inclined to trust someone that murdered my acquaintance with so little hesitation.” He watches your eyes closed and for a second you look so hopeless but when they open, they've hardened.

“I could simply pull apart your pod from the outside, make sure you suffocate with me!” The last words come out in a shout of frustration. You bang your hand against the glass window of the door.

He glares at you, his voice low and menacing “I do not take lightly to threats, creature.”

This day’s too long, too hard, you've done too much. How many deaths? You realise that you can't kill someone for, sensibly, not letting you in. You laugh “I feel like the wolf at your door,” you sigh god your head hurts “There's no point!” you gesture, “Killing you would do nothing but damn me further I won't kill you out of spite. Fuck!” You glance and the dial on your arm,

6 minutes.

You turn away and sit, suit back against the door. It's as nice a spot as any. “I will choose to die here though I think, just as a reminder that you killed me when I fall through the next time you head out”

You chuckle at the macabre thought then turn off your radio and pull off the helmet.

3 minutes.

The final sun is setting, this really is Apollo's world and it is beautiful. The orange sky outlines the forest’s hands like an oil painting waving you off. Not a bad place to go at all.

2 minutes.

At least it's quiet.

1 minute.

Black spots are filling your vision, blurring out the beauty. Rude you think to yourself and you let out a delirious giggle.

The door behind you slides open and a strong hand grabs the back of the suite as you flop back, hauling you in, snagging the helmet and sealing the door. You don’t move, staring at the ceiling for a second breathing deeply.

Ezra drops heavily down onto the cot and watches you, you're quite something up close even covered in another's blood and your own, you're beautiful. He imagines this is what a witch would look like after a ritual, all blood and magic and secrets.

You open your eyes and peer up at him. “What changed your mind?”

He grins “Call it a reckless curiosity fuelled by this festering limb of mine.” He gestures to his arm.

It’s your turn to size him up, he seems to be looking worse by the minute and now slumped against the wall, you could probably just kill him and take what you need. Maybe you would if he hadn’t let you in. “Perhaps I can patch it up, I've got steady hands and too much experience with wounds from weapons” you struggle into a seated position with a grunt as pain flashes.

“You might as well have a gander, I'm afraid if left to my own devices I'll have to saw the thing off myself or else perish” He frowns down at his twitching fingers, “I do believe this may be my lowest point, little creature. I invite in trouble and then ask it for help? I have certainly had preferable days, for instance, when the ship I was presiding upon became infested with channel rats seems superior to today.”

You hum in reply not really paying attention as he continues to talk. Reaching for your pack, you pull out a pretty well stocked surgery kit.  “I'll numb it as best I can but it's not much”

“Anything that alleviates this agony will be a blessing little creature” You raise an eyebrow at him in acknowledgment, clearly doubting it as you hand him a tablet which he swallows. He pulls off his shirt and you examine the wound trying not to stare at his strong arms and broad chest. It’s a couple days old and badly infected, you’ll have to get out the rot before you can think of sealing it.

“Lie back” you tell him

“Perhaps in another situation your choice of language would be quite desirable” he smirks at you, not succeeding in disguising the worry in his face.

You sigh at the comment “Scream all you need but don't move”

That makes him chuckle, “You're a siren luring me in to slay me, aren't you?” His jaw clenches as you start cutting away the rotted flesh. It is slow work, carefully taking as little pink away as possible. To his credit he doesn't move a muscle and you know it must be agony. He talks the entire time, telling the tale of how he got himself shot in such a long-winded way you can’t tell the truth from the fiction. It seems to give him distraction though, so you don’t ask if he’s lying. As you close the wound with foam, he smiles at you, softer than before.

“Names Ezra, by the way.” Then he passes out.

He’s rather strange you decide, but most prospectors are. You’ve got to be a bit odd to spend your days nearly isolated on hostile planets. Asleep he looks peaceful, none of the calculating gaze or darkness. That little patch of blonde is so distinctive, you find yourself almost hypnotised by his face. Frowning at yourself you move away and sit back against the other side of the pod facing the cot.

A few things left to do with him unconscious, you pull off the stolen suit and grab the patch gun from your pack, melting it closed. You pull it back on and holster your pistol. Sitting back, you take a pill from your med kit to ease the pain in your chest and let it pull you into sleep.

Unsurprisingly, you wake before him. You check he's alive then pack your stuff together. You're even, you suppose. He saved your life. You saved his (or at least his arm) and you'd rather not stay around to find out if, when less fevered, he decides to get more even with you for killing his partner. He did give you his name though and names are powerful things so you pull out your notebook and leave a note as you grab an oxygen tank.

You glance behind you as the door seals behind you but you don’t turn back. If you head towards the ship your crew had brought down yesterday, it should have an escape pod still on it. Hopefully you can fix it up if needs be. You follow your compass East.

⧫⧫⧫

Ezra wakes slowly, he hasn't slept so deeply in years, he feels comfortable if a little cold and slowly he opens his eyes. The previous day returns to him in a haze, a pretty face and bright eyes glaring through the door, a gesture to old gods, his arm…

He looks down and moves his fingers. It's good, remarkably so, still stiff and aching but whatever you’d given him seems to have hurried his healing. That stuffs expensive. Not the sort of thing a prospector would usually have and certainly not something they'd share. You were quite strange, he concludes, but fascinating. Why on earth would someone who could act so brutally for their own survival give him something so valuable? Sure, he let you in but you certainly hadn't needed to let him know you had such a thing in your possession. He supposed guilt over his partner, perhaps you were truly naïve or, bizarrely, you could have money. Which would create a more baffling question of just how you ended up here.

It doesn't occur to Ezra for a moment the other reason, until he looks around the pod to find you gone along with a portable oxygen canister leaving a bit of paper in its place. Things stolen hold less value.

The paper was clearly torn from a notebook on it, it simply said your name.

He curses pulling on his suit and following your tracks into the forest. The trail is light but visible, branches broken where you’d passed, dry brush crushed under your feet. He moves quickly, sure of his footing after spending so much time navigating the dead forest. He’s only travelled about a mile before he can hear you moving ahead.

⧫⧫⧫

You walk through the trees, one sun shining above you warming your bones. As you check your direction you pause. A twig snaps and you freeze listening carefully. There's another noise behind you and you spin tensing. You can't see anything or anyone as you peer around you, the forest is too dense.

A body crashes into you from behind flinging you into the ground, looping something around your neck. Your head ricochets off the inside of your helmet shaking your brain, opening the cut again but not breaking the glass. You try to lurch up but get nowhere so you roll into your back with them now beneath you but the cord around your neck holds you back. Choking, you catch your fingers in it so you can breathe and pull forwards, hard, rolling again and thrusting your helmet back into theirs, loosening their grip enough so you can pull the cord away, only for them to shove you head down into the ground.

The world is swimming now, wobbling around you as you try to get your body to listen to you. To get away. To fight back. Anything! But their weight on your back prevents you from moving. You try to look out of the corner of your eye to see your opponent but get nothing. It surprises you when a tear tracks down your face. You suppose you have been putting off the inevitable for days now, Kevva has called you back.

Whoever it is clicks on your radio and a familiar voice hisses, “You stupid fucking cunt, I'm bringing you to hell with-“ A shot rings out and the body slumps on top of you, you lift yourself up and shove it off sitting up on your haunches looking around for the shooter.

It's him, Ezra, gun still trained on you. He watches you halt, eyes wide.

“You took something of mine, and although usually I don't go out of my way to find trouble, which you little creature certainly are. I awoke to find myself abandoned and a little peeved to discover that you had liberated a couple of my possessions and shimmied out of part of our prior agreement.”

Your heads still spinning and with the blood trickling into your eye you find it immensely difficult to focus on what he is saying. “Prior agreement?”

“Yes indeed. You'll find you had affirmed in exchange for breath you would fix up my little ship so when the time comes, I may leave this barely liveable planet. I do not appreciate reneging”

You squeeze your eyes shut.

“On your feet creature,” he approaches, “I find myself growing impatient.” You stand and instantly stumble forward. He grabs onto your shoulder steadying you, his other hand darting out before you can relax and snagging your thrower from its holster. “I underestimated you once, I will not again. Now, your assailant seemed to know you, if I'm not mistaken, by the way they deemed to remark upon you. Pray tell me the tale?”

Looking at him you do feel a lot like prey. He's close, grip still firm on your shoulder and towering over you. A grin showing all his teeth like a wolf, all you would need is a red cloak and you’re dinner.

You glance down at the body and clench your jaw, it was Cora. Formally, a member of your crew, she had always distrusted you. Rightfully so, you think to yourself.

Steadying yourself you shrug off Ezra's grip, ignoring the gun still aimed at you and kneel down to pull off her helmet. Taking a coin from your pocket you place it under her tongue and look back up at him, the helmet still in your grasp. He's watching you curiously, seeming to be rolling words around in his mouth as if completely thrown by your behaviour.

“She was part of my crew, I was the engineer so the crash was my fault,” well that was definitely true.

Ezra chuckles darkly, “I'm not too sure I want you to repair my ship after all, creature. Your predilection for incident does appear wearisome.”

You tilt your head up at him, “See any other engineers around here?”

“I suppose you'll have to do, but I will be watching you mighty closely little bird, in case you decide to take flight again.” You frown at the new nickname but don't get a chance to argue as you both hear a horn a little way off. “Unfortunately, my shot appears to have alerted the ever-irritable locals to our location.” He grabs your arms and hauls you back to your feet pulling you along with him as he walks back the way you had come, Cora’s helmet still clasped in your hand. “Luckily the settlers are not quick on their feet, I must say.”

You can't think of a response, your head is still reeling and your feet feel like lead as you trudge after him, his hand gripping firmly onto your wrist.

You're grateful you hadn't travelled far when he tugs you into the pod. Closing the door and turning, Ezra finds you slumping down to sit on the floor ripping off your helmet and attempting to wipe the blood out of your eye. It feels a little voyeuristic as he watches you tug off the suit soaked with his partner's blood, revealing the black insulating vest and leggings beneath before flopping back eyes closed for a moment. You feel his stare and pointedly ignore it as you grab your own suit, abandoned the day before, and shimmy into it. Cora had the same suit and so her helmet will fit yours. You feel a little relief at no longer having to wear the blood of someone you'd killed, not to mention more secure in something that fits.

Glancing up at Ezra as you transfer your possessions between pockets yet again you see he's elected to tie his suit up around his waist revealing those damn arms again. He crouches down in front of you and gently grasps your chin to tilt your head up at him. “That's quite the cut you've got there little bird.”

He carefully watches your face but your head is still fuzzy so with no retort he moves away from you and picks up your med kit. He cleans your wound gently, wiping the dried blood off your face. As he does, you study him. Close up you can see the wrinkles around his eyes from when he smiles and the curved scar on his cheek. Fighting off the impulse to trace your fingers over it, you ask how he got it. He grins as he places a plaster on your head “Now that’s quite a story” but you don’t get to hear it yet, sounds outside means the settlers have found the pod.

“They'll leave provided they don't know we're here” He grumbles, tugging you into the cupboard running along the wall.

It’s slim but long inside, there are blankets on the floor, a lantern and a small stack of tattered books. “Do you sleep in a cupboard?” you have to ask but you do your best to keep the incredulity out of your tone.

“I'd rather you didn't insult my little burrow as a guest, there's only one cot in this pod and I lost the wager so I made do. I think you’ll find it’s rather cosy”

You nod, a little thrown by his change in attitude since being in the forest. As you both sit you watch his face in the golden light of the lamp. It makes him appear to glow, almost like a painting. He'd look almost relaxed if it wasn't for how his eyes were watching you carefully.

Ezra studies your features, if you hadn't been such a bringer of chaos, he'd think he'd made you up, that, or Kevva had reached into his head and plucked you out. You're just perfect, perhaps anything his own mind could come up with would have to come with chaos, there was no fun without it.

The quiet moment is disrupted by a bang on the side of the pod, you jump and Ezra tenses slightly but seems to be expecting it. “They're trying to frighten out anyone inside” he whispers, “If we stay quiet and hidden, we'll be just fine”

You nod and tilt your head back against the wall trying to block out the noise as Ezra reaches for the book at the top of his stack. You read the title ‘Perfume’, you haven't heard of it but judging by the battered pages and writing in the margins Ezra knows it intimately. He glances at you. “It is a tale of a man who gets so enraptured with the scent of a woman he endeavours to turn her essence into perfume.”

You hum in response “That sounds a little morbid.”

Reaching into your bag you pull out a similarly dog-eared copy of ‘The Power’ and do your best to ignore the man opposite you.

Ezra frowns at his book. It's not often a good read fails to pull him into its world but something about your presence has driven him to distraction. Instead, he closes the book and continues to study you, it's a nice change having a stranger in such close quarters. You're frowning at your book a little furrow in your brow he finds endearing. It's only then he notices you're shaking. He wonders if it's from the death of your friend, from the settlers’ insistent pounding on the side of the pod or from him. He supposes it's quite scary to be trapped in a small space with someone twice your size and he hasn't exactly been kind to you. Ezra frowns to himself, not that you've given him a reason to act kindly. You will be useful to each other but there's no point making friends on such rough terms.

You look up meeting his eye as he glowers at you and swiftly glance away, trying to take up as little space as possible.

“You said you came to prospect?” he murmurs to you. You look back at him, wide eyed, and nod. “Good, you can help me finish me dig, 60/40 split, since you so callously divested me of my partner.”

You nod “You ridded me of mine too. Looks like we're even again. Equal split.” He’s tempted to laugh at your boldness, negotiating with no leverage. He keeps his face stern, unwilling to let you know how much he is enjoying your spark.

“I don't think so.” he speaks lowly making you tense, “I will permit that without you my arm would be about as useful as stim gum is at staving off hunger. And at least to me my arm is equal to a partner.” He tilts his head at you, the light cutting plains across his skin, “Even so… we still aren't even. That’s twice I saved your troublesome arse. One could suggest you’re indebted to me.”

To his surprise you nod, even as your jaw clenches and he watches you swallow “I guess I'll have to make it up to you another way. Even split or I don’t dig” That breaks him, he can’t hold in his grin at your fearlessness. He strongly suspects you’ve had an abundance of practice getting what you're owed from characters more unscrupulous than himself. He frowns at that, even hardened prospectors treat him warily, there must be something else to you. He agrees though, more out of curiosity than necessity.

“Even split it is then.”

⧫⧫⧫

You both agree there's no point going out to dig with the settlers so close but after the noise has subsided Ezra looks you over and suggests you shower. You don't tell him what a gift that is but he sees how your eyes light up at the prospect of washing off the past days’ grime. He hands you a towel and as the water starts running, he distracts himself from picturing you naked by satisfying some of his inquisitiveness and going through your pack.

There's not much of interest. Your med kit, some protein bars, instant caf, ammunition but in the front pocket he finds an old ring. Round like a signet but instead of a family emblem it is simply a small coin, plated in gold. He studies it, it's roughly hewn, well-made but not particularly fine. He wonders if you stole this too, but it isn't flashy and everything else you've taken had been useful so he posits it is yours, but why don't you wear it? Frowning he puts it back as he spots a notebook, worn and well-loved but as he reaches for it the water shuts off and he leaves your pack, choosing to get nourishment for you both before you sleep.

You emerge dressed just in your leggings and vest, Ezra gestures to the seat noticing the bandage on your arm. “What did you do that your mystical little tablets cannot heal?”

You finger the material absentmindedly, “Oh it's an old wound I keep reopening, better to keep it covered to prevent infection.”

He peers at you clearly unconvinced but he doesn’t question you further, you avoid his eyes looking at the floor as he sticks some food in front of you. “Eat up little creature, we've hard work to do tomorrow and we'll need our energy.”

You take a mouthful before asking, “Where will we sleep?”

“Better we stay out of sight in case our hospitable friends return, so back into the burrow. And I'd rather keep you close in case you start to feel flighty again” You sigh but to his surprise don't argue, perhaps the settlers really did shake you.

Ezra returns to studying you as you both eat, without your suit on he can see the harsh bruises around your neck where your former friend had tried to strangle you but the gash through your eyebrow has stopped bleeding and fresh from the shower, you're quite the vision. It has been so long since he'd had another body to warm his bed and you look so soft and vulnerable without the suit and imminent danger, he finds himself picturing you under him, writhing, brow furrowed like before. His hands grabbing your arms, your hips, your neck- He shakes himself of the image. Your partnership is tenuous at best without bringing in the pleasures of the flesh and he doesn't really want to scare you off potentially leaving him alone and trapped on this world.

When you've eaten you head into Ezra's ‘burrow’ as he called it and settle opposite each other, legs stretched out in front, feet almost touching. Ezra is next to the door ensuring you can't leave without waking him but you're not inclined to try, you know your luck is running out. You're grateful he doesn't try to scare you into staying, instead curiously he picks up his book and looks at you. 

“I propose an exchange, it appears we are both almost prepared to recite our beloved tomes cover to cover, so, would you acquiesce your book for mine?”

You shrug, “I wouldn't mind something new but I'm not sure how much you'd enjoy ‘The Power’ and I have nothing else.”

He smiles his eyes crinkling with amusement, “Well then, read me the blurb and let me decide for myself. It seems only I would know what I may delight in.”

“It's about how women become the dominant gender in the world, told by a man in the future where a male dominated society seems absurd.”

Ezra grins, “I am intrigued! It'll be a joy to discuss books with another person, a pleasure I can rarely partake in”

You smile back as you swap books. A tentative exchange that leaves you both a little hopeful for the progress of your partnership.

You both read in silence until you yawn twice in a row causing Ezra to yawn too and he suggests you turn in. Or you guess he does, his choice of language seems to baffle you here and there. He wrangles a blanket out from under you and you settle in, top to tail, his feet level with your chest and yours to below his hip. You didn't realise how the adrenaline of the day had worn you out and you're asleep in seconds. 

You awake on your front, head nestled into your arm. It's pitch black and there's a weight on your ankle. Trying not to panic you wait for your eyes to adjust and peer over your shoulder to see what's grabbed you. It's Ezra.

Asleep on his back one hand on his stomach where the blankets had been shoved down and his under shirt had risen revealing a strip of tan skin glowing in the low light. You try not to focus on that. His other hand, by his side wrapping nearly all the way around your ankle. You wonder if he grabbed you awake to stop you trying to escape or if unconscious, he simply wanted to keep your warm body close, that idea makes you feel a little soft, this is easily the gentlest he's touched you apart from patching your head. You debate if you should shake him off but you don't want to wake him and his warm hand is anchoring so you just put your head back down on your arms and go back to sleep.

⧫⧫⧫

Ezra had his sleeping pattern nailed down, a necessary thing for a prospector, usually out cold for 7 hours so he's surprised when he startles awake. He doesn't usually dream. He grasps at the threads of images his mind had conjured committing them to memory. It was about you and it was enough to make him flush and now as he rouses himself, he gently detaches his hand from your ankle unsure about when he grabbed it. It's still early, he looks over you asleep on your stomach breathing slowly. He sighs adjusting himself in his pants if he can't get these images of his head, he's going to have an even more difficult time working with you than he already will. Desire is fickle like that he supposes, giving him a beautiful creature, he can't trust. One who is clearly concealing something and who certainly doesn't desire him in return. A beep tells him the suns are rising and you begin to stir

“Arise little bird, a day off struggle and fortune lays in wait.”

You grumble in return shuffling onto your back and sitting. Ezra tries not to stare as the blanket slips away revealing your body. To avoid further thoughts, he leaves his burrow taking his suit, subtly clutching it to his front so as not to alert you to his predicament, and heads for the shower to sort himself out, eternally grateful that the pod had connected to an underground lake making the water supply essentially infinite. Hopefully a brisk wash will clear his head and body of the lust.

You flop back and sigh. That damn blonde tuft and those sharp features were following you even into sleep. It had been far too long since you'd enjoyed another person and if it wasn't for the dilemma you were in, Ezra would be an easy yes. Broad and handsome and charming in a way that just spelled trouble, but your uneasy alliance, and your lies, and the fact that he could easily kill you make you especially wary of being vulnerable in the way you truly crave. Instead, you shake yourself, grab your pack, dig around for that terrible instant caf and leave the cupboard.

Ezra's shower was doing nothing for his erection. Feeling a little exasperated he grasps it harshly and tries not to picture you so vivid in his dream moaning around him. The water raining down on him acts as a lubricant as he harshly begins pumping his hand not wanting to take his time and fall into a fantasy of you. It doesn't work, he imagines how soft your hands would be, how wet you'd be, how he'd take you here up against the tiles. It's quick and dirty. He grunts, swears, then cums, the water washing the sin away leaving him panting and if anything, more frustrated than before.

You hear Ezra swear in the shower and wonder vaguely if he dropped something as you grab two mugs and start heating water for caf. The shower shuts off and you look round as he emerges with a towel wrapped around his waist. His eyes are dark and he looks furious so you turn away and try not to think about how the water droplets on his broad shoulders shimmer as he disappears back into the cupboard.

Seeing you there, making you both caf, dressed in your underclothes sparked a craving of domesticity within Ezra. For the briefest moment you weren't a reluctant partner on a hostile planet, instead you were a lover he could wrap his arms around from behind as you giggle and try to get breakfast and it aches.

When Ezra re-emerges, dressed with his hair sticking in all directions, you've put his caf on the small bench and are sitting waiting for him. He sits too and picks it up.

“There's only a couple months left in the dig” he says, “You up to it? I will be displeased if you slow us down”

You glare, so this is what he's worried about, “Don't worry I've had plenty of practice. If anything, I'd worry about your arm!”

He grins at you “No need to fret little creature, I managed to do my job with a hole in it and with your miraculous medication, it is only a little unyielding.” He carefully looks over your face, “Speaking of, I would appreciate you being candid in not only the precise location you acquired such a potion but why in Kevva you deigned see fit to give it to me?”

He watches you chew on your words, “I relieved them from a man who sought to take from me, and I gave them to you to even my debt. You saved my life if I didn't give you one, I wouldn't have been able to save your arm.”

What a strange little thing, he thinks, so worried about balance, “Did you happen to also relieve this man of his life?” You stare into your cup and don't answer “Well if he sought to take from you, I'll assume it was just.”

You sit in silence as Ezra smoothly changes the subject and grabs a bar for you, spinning quite the tale as you eat. Not stopping for breath as you pull on your suits, boots and helmets, only pointing you towards the equipment you need to grab before opening the door and leading you back into waste.

Ezra hadn't given you back your thrower which you supposed was fair although he had left you your blade which you're sure he remembered you carried. Perhaps a little act of faith to gain your trust? It didn't hurt. 

As you approach the site Ezra looks back at you, “Stay close little creature we wouldn't want you to get lost.” His voice is low and threatening and sends a shiver down your spine that isn't entirely fear. You nod slowly and he grins, wolf-like just as before, as if outside you the pod he is an entirely different beast to reckon with. 

“I'll get in the pit and do the heavy lifting, you can treat and polish on the surface, we'll go for as long as we've got light and head back. It's gonna be a long day little bird”

The dig comes as a relief, the repetitive labour clears your head and Ezra seems to be filled to the brim with stories and anecdotes, although, you don't think you're actually learning much about him. The way he talks is open yet totally guarded, as if he has the compulsion to speak but the sense not to trust you. You aren't offended, it's not like you're exactly opening up to him either. The day passes quickly like this and as the sun dips too low to see well Ezra hauls himself out of the pit, tells you to pack up and you both head back to the pod to eat and sleep. You wake with his hand around your ankle again.

⧫⧫⧫

A couple of days in, the suns seem to be burning even hotter than before. The dig is gruelling and you’re grateful Ezra so far, hadn’t let you into the pit. You aren’t sure you could bear it in this heat. By the time you finish and return to the pod, taking off your helmet is a relief. You feel hot and sticky and bone tired so you plop yourself down into the cot in the main room still in your suit. Ezra chuckles, “You must be out of practice, else you'd still find these long days easy.”

Ah, so he is bringing it up. You raise your head to look at him, “I still kept up with you, didn't I?”

“True, true, although I am not functioning at full capacity at the present time.” He gestures to his arm.

You flop back and gaze at the ceiling, “Or I just survived a crash from space a few days ago and I'm still a bit worn out.”

That makes him laugh. It's a big warm noise, that makes you giggle too at the absurdity of it all. 

“Are you confident you wish to slumber there?”

“Why? You afraid I'm going to make another break for it?”

His grin is just a little softer now, “A little. But if I were you, I'd be more concerned about the neighbours might pop by.”

“Shit, alright” you sit up and instantly yawn.

“Let's get some food in you and turn in, little bird. If I'm not careful I'll have to carry you into my burrow.”

Smiling back, you mock him a little, “With your arm? I'm not sure you'd be capable.”

At that he grins and you realise you've given him a challenge he won't back down from. Stalking up to you like a cat he seizes you under the arms and hauls you against his chest making you huff and giggle as you try to wriggle free. He carries you across the pod like you weigh nothing and plonks you down on the little work bench. Hovering too close for just a moment too long, his breath ghosting your cheek.

“Now how about you keep your smart comments to yourself, lest I have to keep proving you wrong?” he smiles at you, letting you see the crow’s feet by his eyes. 

“I'll admit defeat this time I suppose, but you really should go easy on that arm!”

Ezra turns away from you, his heart pounding a little and reluctant to leave your embrace. Instead, he ignores the feeling urging him to clasp you close and grabs your food. As you slide off the bench and into a seat, he hands you a bowl. Neither of you attempt to meet the other's eye and both of you fail to see the flushed face of your companion.

Once again sleep comes easy, the hard work making your body crave rest to heal but even so in the dark you wake. There's no rush of panic this time instead you feel warm and sleepy as you glance at Ezra at the other end of the cupboard. He's not grasping your ankle instead his side is pressed against yours, leg to leg. It's cosy and in your half-awake state you don't think about how you had gone to sleep separated, and who had sought out whom in the black.

The next day goes much the same, you bicker before you head out deciding who should be in the pit and who shouldn't. Ezra concedes that he'll do the treating of the gems today if you keep alternating so neither of you gets too worn out. You agree though you point out yet again that he needs to go easy on his arm and he points out your bruises and gash on the head as hypocrisy. It's an argument with no malice and it feels refreshing to have a go at someone without worrying they'll get angry and shoot you. Although perhaps you should be more concerned by how at ease you are. If he was to see the scar on your arm, you doubt he'd be so understanding. 

As the day ends Ezra offers you his hand to pull you out of the pit, his touch lingering in yours for just a second too long.

⧫⧫⧫

Working like this you form a sort of routine. Up early, dig till you can't see, talk, eat, sleep, press together in the night. Ezra is starting to reveal little details about himself, where he was born, how he got into prospecting, his favourite books. In a way it makes you feel guilty for staying guarded, only relinquishing the barest details about yourself, but if he notices he doesn't point it out. 

A month passes like this and as you watch Ezra hop into the pit you wonder vaguely if he'll ever run out of things to talk about. He describes an incident where an amateur prospector managed to get his arm stuck in the pit resulting in its brutal amputation but your attention fails as you wait for the next potential gem and you look into the trees behind you. 

An uneasy feeling claws at you so trusting your gut you tell Ezra to shut up and get down out of sight just as someone emerges. No one you recognise, thank Kevva, and not a settler either. They are carrying a rifle though. Bowing your head to your work so they can't see your mouth move, you quickly describe what's happening.

“I can only see one, he's armed. A prospector. You stay quiet unless I shout.”

“Right then birdie. I await your call.”

You look up at the man staying on your knees and gesture your radio setting.

“What's someone like you doing out here all alone?” You repress a shudder at his tone.

“Same as you, I expect, making my way in the universe.” He comes closer and you fight the urge to back away but you don't want to draw attention to Ezra. “I don't have much to offer you and I don't take kindly to thieves.”

“Big talk from someone unarmed.” Wishing Ezra had given back your thrower, you stand and decide an attempt to bargain will be the best option.

“What do you want then, we can trade.”

“I'm not looking to trade anymore, I'm stuck here. My team's dead.” He levels his gun at you. “If you take me to your ship, I'll let you live for a price. Protest too much and I'll shoot and have my way while you bleed out.”

You gulp and stand starting to back away. Even with the element of surprise Ezra will have to act quick and be lucky if you both want to live. Why would he though, he doesn't have much motivation to risk his life for yours, he'll just have to hitch another ride. The man keeps moving towards you as you reach the edge of the pit, eyes not leaving your face and presses the gun to your chest. You glance down for a moment, hoping he doesn't look too, and see wide brown eyes and a miniscule nod. 

At the same moment Ezra reaches up, you drop back into the pit and land heavily on your back, winded. He slices across your assailants achilles tendon and grabs onto his leg pulling him in after you. Frozen in place, you watch the tussle, for the first time properly witnessing how formidable of a foe Ezra can be. His size and strength easily overpower the other man as he rolls on top, throwing down heavy blows that fill the air with the soft thuds of impact, like a heartbeat. A yell is cut off with a gurgle as Ezra shoves his blade into the man’s neck repeatedly, using his weight to hold the man down until he stills.

There's a moment before he turns, he lowers his head trying hard to calm his harsh breathing and sighs. “I do apologise little bird,” he turns to you scowl in place, eyes dark. “For my brutality, I'd rather you didn't have to bear witness.”

His voice is low and he's watching you carefully as you sit up. You feel lost for words at how far he'd gone to defend you, you wonder how close he got to becoming the man dead in front of you. Alone and cruel. All you can do is nod in response.

Ezra curses himself at how quiet you've become. Moving the body out of the pit had taken time and once done, as he watched you place a coin in his mouth, he'd announced that to continue the dig today would be futile with adrenaline running so high and at your nod you had gathered the equipment and headed back to the pod. He watches you carefully as you pull off your suit and decides that the fact you didn't just sprint for the trees after what he did was a good sign. But you continue to surprise him.

“Thank you,” you say softly, “For not letting him…”

“Nonsense, without the pleasure of your company I don't doubt my humanity would soon become as weathered as his own.” He frowns, “It was rather like being visited by the ghost of Christmas yet to come.” You tilt your head not really sure what that means but he shrugs. “Don't fret about it.”

Then there's silence as you watch each other. Lost in thought as you make your meal and eat.

Ezra ponders on the panic he felt deep in his chest at the waver in your voice. He wonders when saving you switched from utilitarian need to something more. He knows how stupid it is to get attached, how reckless. But your bright eyes and determination to stay alive were admirable and captivating and he craves to know more, what makes you laugh, how well you'd take him. He sighs and attempts to brush the lust aside. Even if you weren't terrified of him, he just knew you were concealing something.

The silence stretches out, both unwilling to break it, as you head into the burrow. For the first time, you sleep next to each other. 

⧫⧫⧫

Ezra is wrapped around you when you wake, safe and warm and comforting. You can feel his heartbeat against your back, its steady rhythm relaxing you before your brain starts whirring. Then you feel guilty, like you're taking advantage of him. He doesn't realise how much you enjoy him holding you close and you certainly don't deserve it. The weight of your lies heavy on your shoulders you ease out of his arms, careful not to wake him, and leave the sanctuary of the burrow. 

A wonderful dream slips away from him as he stirs. His little bird's weight in his arms, grounding him, giving him something to protect. Looking round for you and finding you gone, he swears and stumbles to his feet. Kevva, he hoped you hadn't left him alone.

He almost sighs with relief when he leaves his burrow just to spot you sitting by the window watching the suns rise, notebook in hand and mug beside you. You look up, a little wary of his wide eyes but shrug. “I couldn't sleep.”

“Me neither little creature, my dreams are haunted.” He picks up your mug and takes a sip, with a grimace he says “Can you truly enjoy something so acrimonious?”

You chuckle, “Habit I guess.”

“Well, it's certainly rousing” he smiles at you “What are you scribbling there?”

“I had a look round the ship, it's all the repairs I need to do.” You hesitate, “If we swing by the other crashed ship for a couple parts, we can be gone in two days.”

Ezra's eyes darken just a little, his voice low, “You wouldn't be trying to wiggle out of our agreement now? The dig isn't done and I demand satisfaction.”

He watches your mouth twist, “It's just I think our luck's run, the longer we stay the more trouble we're going to get like yesterday.”

“That cannot be helped, little creature. I'd like to live well for a while, and so, the dig must be completed.” You think to that other ship, there's immeasurable wealth on it but you can't tell him. Then he'd know what you were. So instead, you nod and start preparing for the day.

The change in your attitude has Ezra feeling nervous. He realises if he doesn't show a little faith, you won't feel safe and he'll lose you, and possibly himself. Just before opening the door to the waste, he turns to you, “Here.”

He's holding your pistol out to you, frowning slightly, you peer up at him “What?”

“If something like yesterday happens again I'd rather you be able to look after yourself,” you nod and reach for it but he keeps it in his grip for a moment, “Don't get any ideas” his voice is low and dangerous eyes hard on you. You swallow and nod shoving it into your holster.

To your relief the dig is quiet and Ezra has returned to chatting away to you from his perch outside the pit and eventually you're able to chat back making him laugh as the day passes.

There's a change between you, him trusting you to be armed has given you a chance to breathe, but, with that a new tension has come between you. One you're trying very hard to ignore. It’s crawled into your head and planted thoughts of closeness, of more, that you can ignore during the day but not at night.

After that day you'd formed a new routine. Going to sleep next to Ezra and waking up feeling secure in his arms before the guilt hits and you leave before he wakes. Not letting him know the comfort you've found there. 

⧫⧫⧫

Apart from the locals coming to bang on your walls every few days, weeks pass incident free as you both perform this dance around each other. Ezra finds that his cold showers are doing less and less to quell his lust, and heart is another matter entirely. So, he ignores it, treats you a little coolly, tries not to scare you off, it's getting more difficult now nearly every night he dreams of you. Sometimes it's lewd, sometimes you're chatting together, the worst are when he dreams he's just holding you. He might think it was real if not for how when he wakes up you aren't there.

Until the morning he wakes first. 

He's groggy, breathing deeply and so, so comfortable. It takes a moment to get his bearings. Shifting slightly, he realises how he's curled around you, hand on the strip of skin of your stomach where your shirt has rolled up, face pressing into the back of your neck and he has to fight the urge to kiss it. When you moan quietly, he props himself up on his arm looking down at you in the low light. For a moment he thinks you're having a nightmare but you flushed, breathing shallowly and he's certain you aren't. When you whimper, he shudders, such a pretty noise. He feels tempted to stay pressed against you, to touch you, to make you make more of those noises. He fights it off, and eases away from you stepping out of the warmth of his burrow. 

He thinks, perhaps later he can talk to you, there's nothing wrong with getting some pleasure and easing some stress in each other’s arms. There isn't long left of the dig and then you'll go your separate ways, the thought stings a little. He leans back against the door. Kevva, he craves more, he wants to learn every inch of you intimately, to learn what makes you tick, to wake up with you in his arms. It aches deep in his chest, so many years spent in poor company. He hears you moan once more and groans himself, pushing off the door he trudges to the shower.

For the first time in ages, he runs it hot before stepping in and grasping his cock. He lets himself take his time, starting slow, increasing the pace till he feels like he could explode then slowing right back down again. He doesn't fight off the images of you that spring into his head now he knows what you can sound like. He imagines you making them with his tongue on you, fingers buried in you as he presses you down, how you'd whine his name, how you'd beg. Ezra grunts, staving off his orgasm once more his cock red and throbbing with his heartbeat. He pictures sinking into you, hot and wet with you pliable in his arms as he fucks you into the ground. He cums hard with a growl and a curse and then curses himself both for being loud and for allowing himself to yearn for you, then finally he begins to wash.

⧫⧫⧫

You wake with a start, panting. Your dream is vivid in your mind. Ezra grasping your hands so you couldn't move as he fucked you with his tongue moaning against you. He'd talked too, both eloquent and totally filthy as he got you exactly where he wanted you. You huff, now you were left frustrated and still pining for a man who must just see you as a utility, a way to get off this planet. Hell, he barely even knew anything about you, didn't know the most important thing. But you know you can't stay in this limbo for long now, the digs nearly done and after then what can you do. There are two options, tell him who you are and how you feel and hope for the best or just ignore it, get off the planet, take your money, and go live the quiet life you'd intended. You focus on this debate and instead of the wetness between your legs as you leave the cupboard.

You look around for Ezra and exhale as you hear the shower running, there's no way for him to know what you were dreaming of, right?

That's when you hear him, it's a low, erotic groan followed by a string of swear words and you flush as you became achingly aware of how wound tight you are. You turn away and try to ignore it, heating up water for both of your cafs as the shower stops. 

As it brews the steel door swings open and Ezra emerges wrapped in a towel and glowering, you ignore his stare and the way droplets of water slide down his chest making you want to lick him as you hand him a mug. 

Ezra watches you gnaw on your lip as you look him over and can't hold in the grin at how frustrated you seem. He can't help but tease. 

“Did you have pleasant dreams little bird? You seemed unwilling to rise this delightful morning.”

His grin widens with your eyes as you look away “Err I don't remember… did you sleep ok?”

“Like I was in the welcoming arms of a lover” He doesn't miss your little inhale of breath, and he wonders how best to broach the topic of mutual pleasure with you. Perhaps it'll quell the urge to keep you safe in his arms.

The way Ezra is teasing you makes you think perhaps he can read your mind. As he goes to dress you make a decision, after the dig you'll explain how you really got here, explain how you don't want to leave him after the dig is done. And hopefully he'll be worn out enough that, should he decide you're too much of a liability, you can out run him.

As you head out an uneasy feeling settles in your stomach, you tell Ezra as much but he just chuckles, “Perhaps you're still tired”

The morning goes smoothly, you're in the pit this time handing stuff out every so often to Ezra, his fingers brushing yours. Both of you work quickly, you puff, out of breath, as you stretch yourself up for yet another hand off. His ability to talk is once again surprising you. You laugh at his story despite the unease and the beat of the sun in your back and miss the delighted expression that crosses Ezra's face from your position in the pit.

Like a light switching, the energy shifts. You know there's trouble before Ezra mumbles through the comm “Little bird, stay down. Company approaches.”

Your blood runs cold when a voice responds, already on your frequency, a voice you know. “Greetings friend, we think you can help us out.”

Ezra eyes the pair in front of him, knowing you’d been made was adding a layer of worry to a tense situation, “I'll help if I can but, you're encroaching on my little territory you know how it is. I will be obliged to defend it”

You hear the pair step closer “Actually we're looking for someone,” your eyes slip closed as you stay stock-still, “See they greatly are responsible for our predicament. However,” the voice is clear like they already know you're here, crap, how long did they listen in? “If they were to help us find something we've lost. I can assure their punishment is… swift.”

You swallow as they step to the edge of the pit, Damon glares down at you “Hello darling, long time no see”

Ezra looks shockingly calm, still smiling as you glance at him, “Now then, that is not a polite way to address my partner.”

The other man scoffs, second in command Barlow, “Your partner? Back to your old ways I see.” He looks Ezra up and down. “You’re their type”

You think perhaps you see Ezra's jaw clench before he's grinning “It hardly seems fair for you to make off with my partner, does it? No, not without compensation which unless my ears deceive me, you can't give me without them.”

Before you can blink guns are drawn and you feel like a fish in a barrel, stuck in the pit without Ezra to pull you out.

“You don't know who we are, do you? I suppose in the suits you can't tell but I'd have thought with your… intimate relationship to our engineer you might have figured it out.”

Ezra’s gun doesn't waver for a second but his mind reels. The bandage on your arm, it couldn't be. Surely, he hadn't been so blinded by your company not to notice that. His eyes darken and he thinks, for a moment this man, Damon, realises he's going to die the split second before Ezra shoots.

Barlow’s slower, surprised at him for making the first move but despite his fumble this was a real stand-off. He meets Ezra's glare and they're frozen in time for a moment. Just as he watches the man start to squeeze the trigger and prepare to shoot, he flops sideways. Ezra swings his thrower round you see you, gun in one hand, body turned to the side, still poised from the shot neither of them had seen coming.

Ezra looks as surprised as you feel, even taking aim you hadn't been sure you should save him. But, in the second the men had forgotten about you, you'd let instinct take over and your instinct had chosen Ezra. You hoped it was correct.

Perhaps not. You watch as Ezra’s face darkens, his teeth bared as he levels his pistol at you. “Little bird” his voice makes you shiver despite the heat, “Be so kind as you toss your shooter up here. I think we will be having words.”

You can only nod, what can you do? He says he wants to talk so you'll talk, out of the pit. Where you can stand your ground. You swallow and throw your gun up to him. He gives you a curt nod picking it up and turning away. For a terrifying moment you think he's going to leave you here to die slowly but before you can beg him not to, he returns and tosses a pack down.

“Pack up your gear. We're leaving.” His tone leaves no room for argument so you pack away his equipment as quickly as you can and put it on as you wait and listen to him packing his own, wondering if the shots will draw more trouble.

After all the time spent getting used to his talking, his silence is terrifying. It allows you to think, to panic, to imagine the worst thing he can do. Probably leave you on this planet to rot or be torn to pieces by the locals. You squeeze your eyes shut at the thought.

“Come on now, your elevator awaits” You open them to see he's offering his hand down for you to grab. You do your best to ignore the pistol in the other as you grab a hold and scramble out of the hole you had been sure was going to become your grave. Ezra doesn't loosen his grip on your arm as he hauls you to your feet and strides away from the dig forcing you to trot behind him to keep up.

You stare up at him as he pulls you along trying to read his thoughts. He doesn't look at you scowling straight ahead, his grip vice like and bruising. You don't try to shake him off, you’re sure he's worked out who you are. Your former co-workers hadn't been subtle but you can't gage whether or not this is a walk to the noose.

⧫⧫⧫

Tugging you into the pod he releases your arm and turning to seal the door he finally speaks. “Take off your helmet” His tone sends goosebumps over prickling over your skin so you pull it off and go to set it down on the table. When you turn back, he's right in front of you glaring down eyes dark. It makes you feel tiny. “Show me your arm.”

His words are too concise, so abrupt you hesitate. It's like he's a different person, an enemy you aren't sure you should comply to. Ezra decides you're taking too long and seizes the top of your arms spinning you both around and pinning you against the pod's wall, knee hitched up between your legs keeping you in place. You squirm in a futile attempt to get away and gasp as he unzips the front of your suit and shoves it down to your waist. Ezra breathes heavily as he rakes his eyes up to your body to your face. Doing his best to swallow down his desire, he ignores your own heaving chest and grabs the back of your neck forcing you to look up at him.

“Little bird, take off that measly scrap of fabric and reveal the truth.” You gulp eyes wide fingering the knot of the bandage on your arm. Ezra gives you a little shake. “Do it now.”

So, you do, pulling apart the knot and unwinding it from your arm. You don't look at it, perhaps if you don't see it, it's not really there. Instead, you watch Ezra's face for his reaction, gleaning nothing as he releases your shoulder and grabs your wrist bringing it up for him to see clearly. His brow furrows as he inspects your forearm, a brand of three circles linked like a chain. Kevva, he'd hoped he'd been mistaken. You're frozen as his gaze returns to you, dark eyes furious he crowds around you, filling your senses, body pressing you against the wall. His leg shifts slightly between yours and you almost whimper.

“You've been dishonest, little bird, and I do not appreciate it.” Ezra feels at war, he's furious you lied but he understands why. He's fuming you had been running with a violent, malevolent group of pirates. He doesn't understand why you'd ran after the crash or why you'd turned to him. He wants to know what you have that your crew found so valuable. He wants to know how you're both so hard and so soft. All these thoughts rattle around in his head as he stares at you, your mouth slightly open and your lips wet, until he can only think about how good you feel pressed against him, how delicate you feel under the hand on your neck. How much, despite everything, he wants you. He doesn't notice how close he's gotten to you until he feels the puff of your breath on his face. And then you utterly surprise him.

You can almost hear him think as he stares down at you. You don't want to interrupt but his hold on you is drawing attention to his size, to how much strength and power he holds. It's like he's swirling all around you clouding your brain, filling it with him. So, you let yourself do what you want. You've got nothing to lose. Everything that's yours is in his hands and you can't bring yourself to care. He's leaning closer, bending so with his hand on your neck tilting your head up it's like you’re sharing breath. You close the gap and kiss him.

For a second, he freezes in surprise and then he's kissing you back. Harshly biting your lower lip before shoving his tongue into your mouth. It's desperate and rough and you lick into his mouth in response loving the low moan coming from deep in his chest. He releases your wrist and grasps your hip closing any distance left between you. He grinds into you, the leg between your thighs causing a delicious friction as you whimper into his mouth. He breaks the kiss and stares down at you for a second moving his hands to the bottom of your vest. At your nod he tugs it off and pounces back on you. He rubs his hands up your sides as he kisses you, loving the feeling of how big they are on your frame and how you gasp as he pinches your nipple between his thumb and forefinger. You wriggle against him trying to unfasten his suit and shove it down his arms. He obliges, stepping back he pushing it off and kicks it away leaving him in his underclothes, staring at you, pupils blown wide with lust as he takes you in. Then he's back on you, seizing your jaw and tilting your head up to look at him as his other hand tugs down the remainder of your suit taking your leggings with it.

Eyes look up and down your form, drinking it in as he reaches down to rub a finger over the wetness soaking your underwear. Your mouth drops open and Ezra seizes the opportunity to shove his thumb in your mouth, his grip adjusting to your chin. Smiling as you suck on it.

“Look at you” he coos dragging his nose into your cheek almost mockingly “On display for me, you look good enough to eat.” He punctuates this by biting your neck and pulling your thin underwear taut against your clit just enough you cry out and stand on tiptoe. He grins down at you as you bite down gently on his thumb and then pulls off your underwear letting you kick it aside before stroking his fingers across your slit so gently it makes you buck towards his hand. He moves his hand back to your hip, pinning you back to the wall as he pulls his thumb from your mouth and wraps his hand around your throat, not squeezing just resting there.

“I want you to stay still,” his voice is low and commanding so you nod. “Repeat it back to me, I want to hear you.”

You whimper, “I'll stay still” and he grins before bending to kiss and nip along your jaw above his hand as his other moves back down to your cunt. He circles your clit so gently it's like he isn't really touching you and just as he slightly increases the pressure he draws back. A needy whine falls from your throat but you stay still and he murmurs against your cheek.

“Good little bird, so wet for me. You're positively dripping,” and then just as slowly he eases a finger into. You cry out, so wound tight it's agonising, the contrast between how harshly he gripped you before against his irreverent touches now making you ache for him more than ever. “Sing for me little bird” he demands and then he's really moving, pressing his finger against that spot inside you that makes you see stars, thumb drawing circles over your clit making you moan so loudly it surprises you. 

Ezra watches the flush spread over your skin as your eyes roll back, he doesn't know how he wants you first. Just as you’re getting close, he realises. He wants you begging. 

He forces himself to pull his hand away from you and watches as you shudder with tension eyes opening to look up at him. “Ezra…” your voice is so soft he grins.

You watch him as he raises his hand to his face to lick your juice off it, sucking his finger with a pop. It's so erotic you can only whimper as he smirks down at you. You want to touch yourself, make yourself cum while he watches, but as you lower your hand down he grabs your wrist and moves it back to his shoulder. “Don't misbehave birdie, right now all your pleasure is mine.” You bite your lip.

Then he returns his hand to your pussy, this time shoving two fingers in pumping them as he rubs his thumb against your clit more firmly than before. Your body quivers but his hand against your neck keeps you in place as you moan desperately. As soon as you get close again, he slows down to a stop this time keeping you stuffed with his fingers as you try to get some friction. “Please Ezra,” the tone of your voice shocks you, you've never sounded so needy.

He moves his face away from biting your ear lobe to look at you, “Please Ezra what, little bird? You've got to be clear”

You can't stop the words tumbling out of you, “Please can I cum, please make me cum Ezra”

He smiles almost cruelly, “You sound so exquisite when you beg.” He starts working his thumb again, brushing his lips against yours. The hand on your neck finally starts to squeeze, turning you on more. “Do it again.”

You do, no power could stop you begging for him, saying his name like a prayer. And then you're cumming, your vision goes white as Ezra squeezes your throat firmly, cutting the blood from your brain dragging it out as he shoves a third finger into your wet pussy. 

Ezra swears he's never witnessed anything so magnificent. Your eyes rolling back into your head, mouth open and lips wet, unable to make a sound. How you soak his hand, how you tighten around his fingers. Now all he wants is to find out how many times, how many ways, he can break you apart.

When you begin to squirm, he reluctantly pulls away, you look up only to find he's pulling off his shirt and trousers. Your eyes widen as his cock springs free. You'd known he carried himself like he had nothing to be insecure about but Kevva… he's packing. It's huge and beautiful, slightly curved, a striking vein runner down it. You feel a little more breathless at the sight.

Ezra catches you staring and grins, pressing back against you, grabbing your arse and lifting you against him. You wrap your legs around him as he pins you up against the wall. His cock feels even bigger pressed against your stomach. Ezra grinds against you sucking marks down your neck as he notches himself at your entrance. You whine and claw his shoulders, he's barely into you and you're sure you've never felt so full. “Ezra” your voice is thready “Ezra I don't think you're going to fit.”

He coos in response thrusting shallowly getting slightly further in and making a cry out as you feel yourself drip around his cock. “Don't fret little bird,” he thrusts again getting deeper, kissing you, relishing the feeling of your heat around him, “I know you can take me.”

He thrusts decisively, bottoming out and pushing the air from your lungs. It feels like he's breaking you open, splitting you in two with his cock and you love it. Love the ache as you adjust, love how you can almost feel him in your stomach, love how he has you pinned to the wall supported by those strong hands and his body and totally at his mercy.

You can barely register he's talking as he grinds his hips against your clit. “... squeezing so tight around me. Never in all my time have I gotten so close to Nirvana.”

He waits until you've started to writhe in his arms, just add he'd imagined, begging for him to move. Then he starts long deep thrusts, interspersed by him grinding against your clit making you whimper and moan as you feel his cock drag across your walls.

“Kevva plucked you out of my head and sent you here for me. You're divine, exquisite…” you can't focus on the words, in no time at all you're cumming again. Squeezing him so tight he chokes on his words and kisses you deeply. He doesn't slow down or speed up, keeping his devastating pace until your body starts to relax. Then he nips at your jaw, hooking his arms under your knees and around your back, spreading his palms wide. He steps away from the wall and, slightly afraid he'll drop you, you grab the back of his neck, but you needn't worry. 

Now with you impaled on his cock suspended in the air by his arms, he truly begins to ruin you. Lifting you up and slamming you back he watches your cunt take him, watches how your breasts bounce, watches you throw your head back in a silent scream. He bites into your neck leaving a mark as he sets a brutal pace. Seeing you like this, feeling you like this, has stolen his vocabulary so he curses and growls as he watches, totally enraptured by how well you take him. He thinks maybe he tells you but he can't be sure.

Ezra’s still talking his sentences shorter but still as dirty, the way he praises you makes you moan and combined with his he is destroying you; you don't think you'll ever experience something this good again and then you don't think anything much at all. Just Ezra, his strength, his beautiful words, how perfectly he's fucking you.

Ezra knows he can't last much longer, not in this heaven but he's determined to make you cum again before he does just to feel it. So, he moves you slightly in his arms until he hits that bit which takes your cries even higher. He grins as you dig your nails into his shoulders, the slight pain both grounding him and making him lose his mind.

You feel so overwhelmed and overstimulated that when he adjusts his thrusting you can't help the few tears escaping as you wail. He just pulls you slightly closer and licks them up before staring down and watching how your pussy stretches to take him. You’re so close again you're sure you might explode if you don't cum, or if you do. And then you do, you can't even make a sound as your whole body goes rigid and Ezra doesn't stop pounding you. Instead, you hear him growl and curse and his thrusts get faster and shorter.

Ezra had never experienced anything hotter. The way you threw your head back and took it as he fucked you like a ragdoll. The feeling of you clenching around him. How you soaked him, the sound of your fucking would stay with him forever. And then he's cumming, he bites down on your shoulder groaning into your skin as he releases. His mind is wonderfully blank as he squeezes you against himself and fills you up with a dozen shallow thrusts.

He doesn't release you right away, just holds you to his chest as he turns to lean against the wall cock still in you. Blissful in the moments before his thoughts start buzzing again. When you can move you look up at Ezra, he meets your eyes, gaze totally unreadable. He reluctantly releases you with a groan and grabs his shirt as he kneels and begins to clean off your combined juices dripping down your legs. Seeing him on his knees taking care of you threatens to give you hope which you tamped down. He didn't know the truth yet and he had readily thrown you out once before. When he's done, he stands and tosses the shirt to the side, tugs on his soft under trousers as you pull on your own clothes. The silence feels like a giant pit between you and you glare at your feet unsure how to start this important conversation.

To your surprise Ezra gently pinches your chin and tilts your head up to look at him. “We've still got much to discuss, little bird.” At your nod he pulls your hand into his ignoring how small and delicate it feels and gently tugs you towards the burrow. He has to know the truth.

⧫⧫⧫

You sit next to each other, his back against the wall, you sitting forward nervously running your fingers over the brand on your arm. Ezra just watches you, waits for you to explain and hopes you aren't a threat he'll have to get rid of after you've shared such intimacy.

“I don't… I won't come off like a very good person or partner when I tell you this. So just listen… please?”

Ezra nods, “None of us can be considered a good person, our humanity is dependent on our survival” he sighs, “Spin your tale, I'll remain in silence until it's done and keep my judgement of our partnership till it's completion”

You swallow, “I fixed a ship, that's how this whole mess started. We were leaving a dig and something had gone wrong which would have forced us to land. But I suited up and fixed it in zero G. It was completely stupid and shouldn't have worked but it did and we made it back to the dock. It wasn't till we'd sold off all our gems and separated that I was cornered. Turns out the malfunction wasn't an accident and by fixing it I'd cost them a lot of money in what they would have stolen from us. They reckoned I owed them and… they aren't people you want to owe”

You close your eyes and Ezra watches you tense. He'd like nothing more than to pull you into his arms but as he reaches for you, he clenches his fist. He needs to hear you out.

“They went through the rest of my team to get to me…” oh, Ezra understands they'd totally isolated you. “Well, they worked out since I could fix their brakes, I could mess up the ships in ways that couldn't be fixed without an emergency landing. They branded me there and then. Didn't even tell me how long I'd have to work to balance what I owed; probably thought I'd be dead by then.” You look down at your arm and frown.

When you look back at Ezra, his eyes are sharp, watching you intensely. “That scars old, little bird, how long did you dutifully aid their robberies.” Robberies of prospectors, people like him, people who'd been like you.

You look away, jaw clenched, “Long enough for it to get easy.”

Ezra doesn't move behind you, doesn't speak. You can't look at him.

“And then I couldn't anymore, I saw what I'd become and I hated it.” Your nails dig into your arm. “No one's good out in the fringe. But I was worse. I can't make up for what I did… can't take it back, can't return lives, possessions any of that. But I could stop, bring my crew down too. We used a distress beacon to lure in the other ships and…” you laugh “This time as I boarded after dealing with the other ship. I dunno, I just snapped and blew our engine too.”

Your mouth twists at the memory, “The pilot saw and I… when I was done, I just thought one down. I didn't want to die myself, that’s the easy way out, so I did my best to pull the chutes, hoping I'd play dead and hitch a ride out. Well, you know the rest.”

You stare straight ahead as a tense silence follows not daring to see Ezra glare at you. You don't see his soft eyes looking you up and down, his mind reeling. Had he known this when you’d first met, he would have shot you without question and left you to rot, your presence nothing more than a risk to his survival. But now, you’d saved him, talked with him, he’d gotten to know you. How you drink your caf black saying you’re “sweet enough”, how you look in the morning, how you laugh, how you moan. He knows he can’t kill you now, but you are a threat. He doesn’t know what to do. “Why are they searching for you? What do you have that they want? Your friend mentioned something.”

You laugh humorlessly, “They don't know where the other ship crashed, I was in the pilot’s seat, so no one else could see it go down. Fat lot of good it'll do them wrecked here.”

There's a bang on the side of the pod, “Shite” Ezra mumbles, “Our quixotic friends have returned.”

⧫⧫⧫

The wait for them to leave seems to take hours, the silence making your heart pound and your thoughts race over what you can do now. Ezra will definitely want you gone, only a mad man would keep you around with your history. Perhaps back to the original plan, see if you can mend the other ships escape pod and get the hell off this planet.

By the time the locals have decided your pod is empty, your plan is set. You stand, not looking back at Ezra. “I'll get scarce, I know I'm a problem waiting to happen.”

You grab your bag feeling in the pocket for your ring, a memory of a home you can't return to, old gods you're no longer sure are there. You look down at it as you step out of the burrow not noticing Ezra follow. You shove it into your suit pocket.

He is stumped for words as he watches you grab your possessions that have become scattered around the pod. He sees how your lives have become enmeshed. Scraps from your notebook scattered around where you'd played hangman or left notes and reminders for each other, items of clothing he watches you fail to pack, that damn terrible caf on the workbench.

He's not sure that he'll ever get all the pieces of you out of the pod, out of himself. You're under his skin, the very smell of you making his heart beat with more determination. As you reach for your helmet, he grabs your hand and finally you look up at him.

“Don't leave, I don't want you to leave.”

It's so simple but it means so much more and he thinks you maybe realise as you look up at him tears in your eyes. “I don't want to go.”

And then he kisses you. It's slower than before but no less fierce sparking a deep need in your chest. Gently now, he pulls off your suit as if he's still persuading you to stay before running his hands up your arms and down your back and sides like he's memorising your shape. When he kisses you again it's hungry, intense, he's trying to put words he's afraid to speak into it and it totally wiped your mind as you let him pull you back into his burrow.

Then he's peeling all your clothes off you. His touch is irreverent like he's unwrapping a precious artifact. He tugs you to lie down and settles between your legs pulling off his own shirt. He balances his weight on his arm above your head to nip at your lips, you reach up to run your hands up his chest, feeling him shudder as you gently rake your nails over the skin.

His other hand is squeezing your breast and pinching your nipple before seizing your hip and pulling you flush against him. The friction of his trousers against you, combined with how he's surrounding you, invading all your senses, is overwhelming.

“You are something else entirely,” he's kissing his way down your body, sucking purple bruises as he goes, seeming determined to mark every inch of you. “I could travel the whole breadth of this hostile galaxy and never find a sight as breath-taking as you laid out before me, a divine meal worthy of gods”

His words turn you on more as his ministrations make their way down to your legs. He bites your inner thigh almost too hard, making you squeal and jerk away but he grabs your hips and pulls you back, laving his tongue over the slight indent left by his teeth. You don't know how he's done it, not hours ago he railed you into oblivion and somehow, he has wound you tight all over again. It's like he's playing an instrument, plucking your strings both hard and soft so you melt.

His eyes meet yours, dark and hungry and he holds your gaze as he licks up your slit, his tongue wide as flat. You moan softly as he smiles, “Straight from the source your essence is even more delectable.” He stares at your pussy, seemingly fascinated by how it's fluttering around nothing, totally rapt by a droplet of your arousal sliding its way down.

You whimper at him, and try to buck your hips in his grip, desperate for him to do anything other than stare. He chuckles at you, “So willing to give yourself to me,” then he spits on your cunt. You gasp, half from shock and half from how much it turned you on. He grins as you tense and dives in.

Ezra eats you out like water from a well after crossing a desert. It feels as if he's writing the words, you’re stopping him saying all over your clit as you cry his name. His eyes closed he reaches up and seizes your hands, pulling you closer and settling his elbows over your hips keeping you still and at his mercy as he moans against you. Your eyes close as you feel sparks travel up and down your spine as he shoves his tongue into you making you whine but then he pulls away. Rubbing his cheek on your thigh, his beard tickling you.

“I want you to look at me little bird.” You can't help but obey his command instantly opening your eyes to see his pupils blown wide as he smirks. “You'd do just about anything for me to let you cum, wouldn't you? Don't worry your pretty head. I want you to cum in my mouth.”

Then he's back on you, sucking your clit between his teeth, you gasp his name trying to squirm away. his eyes piercing you, his mouth on you, his hands covering yours, his arms holding you down. It fills your head with him totally overpowering you and then you cum.

You go totally rigid, you're still looking at Ezra but your vision has gone so white you can't see him, just feel him moan against your cunt as you soak his tongue. Even as you start attempting to twist away, he continues, switching between sucking and licking at you as his strong arms pin you down. You cry out at the overstimulation, shuddering from it, tears leaking from your eyes and in no time at all you're thrown over the edge again. Cumming so hard your mind is totally wiped of anything but Ezra.

This time he grants you a reprieve, sitting up he watches your chest heave as you slowly come back into your body. He's lost for words, seeing you like this is better than anything he'd ever imagined and he still wants more, wants to ring every drop of pleasure out of you. And when you smile up at him, totally blissed out and willing, he's sure he'd do almost anything to keep you.

He doesn't put it into words though. Instead, he crawls over you seizing your jaw “Open that pretty mouth little bird,” something about how you so readily obey him twists in his chest and makes his cock twitch. He ignores it and bends close spitting into your mouth. You can taste yourself in it and it sparks your desire all over again.

He can't hold in a groan as you swallow, still smiling, his head seems too empty so he kisses you. It's fiery, filled with lust as you kiss him back and wrap your legs around him reaching down to pull off his trousers, he pulls back to kick them away as his cock springs free, it's hot and red as you wrap you hand around it, not even able to meet finger and thumb and squeeze slightly making him growl and bite along your jawline. “Tell me little bird, what would you will me to do?”

You meet his gaze, “Fuck me.” he groans into your neck, “Please.”

He watches your face as he positions himself at you entrance, “Kevva,” it's like he's not really talking to you, “I've never borne witness to anything so magnificent as your perfect cunt soaking me,” he slowly pushes his way in. It makes you whimper and him growl and you watch the tension in his neck as he restrains himself from ruining you, “Fuck you're tight.” His language is getting simpler as he starts losing control. His soft eyes beg you to let him move as his jaw clenches and you can't help but give in. 

“Please Ezra, move! fuck me”

The noise he makes is inhuman as he starts drilling into you. He shoves one of your knees up over his shoulder, deepening his thrusts making you cry out as he shreds against your walls. All he can think is how hot you are, how wet, how tight, how perfectly you take him. He's shoving up against your g shot with every thrust, coarse hairs grinding on your clit, you feel totally at his mercy to do nothing but take it and it may be the best sex you've ever experienced, ever will experience.

He looks beautiful, your juices still glistening on his face, brow furrowed and eyes half lidded but so piercing you might think he was furious if not for how in-between curses he's describing you, what he thinks of you. You aren't sure he even knows he's talking and the need in his words drives you higher and higher despite how spent you feel, how much you don't think you can cum again. And then you do. Kevva the way you clamp down on him clawing his back makes him lose his mind, he shoves both your knees up to your chest bending over you to bite you lower lip. The change in angle adds more friction, his thrusts get shorter, faster. Ezra cums so hard he can't think, you watch his eyes roll into his head, the groan he makes cuts off his own speech as he shoves himself as deep into you as he can get and releases. 

Ezra’s ears are still ringing when he manages to roll himself off you. Both of you are panting, as you stare at the roof of the pod and try to muster the words. Naturally, Ezra succeeds first. “Little Bird, I didn't know experiences such as that could be bestowed upon men like me.” You can only make a little noise in reply as he takes your hand and silence falls again.

Finally, when your breath is caught and you can both think again, he pulls you to his chest and wraps his arms around you resting his chin on the top of your head.

“Little bird, I'm starting to agree our dig may be bust. Trouble is biting our ankles and I should have listened earlier. Let's pillage what we can to fix the pod and get going. The dig is almost done, even split it'll be a while before I need to pick up another job.” You feel a sting at how quickly Ezra had returned to talking business but you do your best to brush it off. There's nothing wrong with some shagging between friends and it's no reason for him to feel the same fluttering in his chest that you do in yours.

“Right then we should travel light, get everything we need and come back. The fix won't take long, we can be gone in two days.” Two days left with Ezra makes you feel a little sad, you suppose you'd just gotten used to his company.

Ezra smiles grimly, “If we're lucky.”

You turn and roll over enjoying how he follows, wrapping you in his arms, tangling your legs like he can't bear to be separate. “I do have a question for you if you don't mind?”

You shrug, “Depends what it is.”

“What is that strange ring you carry but don't put on.”

“It's… it was a gift when I left home. It's supposed to be my payment.”

Ezra's mind casts back to how you paid honour to the dead, even those he certainly didn't think deserved a boatman. Saving them from a potential purgatory. But you didn't wear yours.

“Little bird, forgive my bluntness but curiosity is driving me to ask. Why don't you wear it?”

You squeeze your eyes closed, forcing away images of your past, grounded in Ezra's warm grip. “It's,” you sigh, “It's just too heavy.”

Ezra can feel how tense you've become and fights off the heavy guilt threatening to settle in his chest. You think yourself deserving of the hundred-year wait wandering the shore, think the loneliness is just. He kisses the back of your neck. “We should let our dreams take us lest we attract more trouble. It is salient we are well rested.”

You sigh, relaxing against him despite yourself. Long since exhausted by the day and his attentions, you let yourself drift off. Faintly feeling a hand caress your cheek, but you could have imagined it.

⧫⧫⧫

Waking up with someone warm in his arms is something Ezra could get used to. He tells you as much but you brush it off, someone isn't necessarily you after all. Ezra talks as you pack but he avoids the subject of you, of you both. He didn't want to scare you off, he tells himself, his flighty little bird. But he knows he's lying to himself, just being a coward, afraid of your reaction. He avoids meeting your eye until, helmets on, you both stand by the door. Taking a moment of peace before heading into the waste. He takes your hand seeking reassurance as much as trying to give it. You meet his eyes looking a little afraid but determined. He squeezes it tight before letting go and opening the door.

The walk East is easy enough, a pretty straight shot over flat ground. The only real problem being navigating the increasingly dense petrified forest. Ezra talks continuously, but you're grateful, glad it isn't awkward between you and enjoying his descriptions of other worlds he's visited. Where instead of breathless death and grey, there's vivid greens and blues of plants and flowers. Where the beauty is just as dangerous as this blank world. And, slowly, you start to talk too. Really talk. You describe a world that, to you, had seemed to be entirely made up of a casino, and the trouble you had gotten into there.

“Too rich for my blood,” Ezra chuckles and you agree.

You don't tell him about your home, not yet. But being able to talk, to laugh about something you'd done, feels freeing. Like a weight has been lifted ever so slightly off your shoulders.

You’re both grateful the walk is uneventful but you can't relax as the looming silhouette of the other spaceship appears through the trees. It's still too early for hope.

As you approach you see that the crew had successfully pulled their parachutes, but too late. The side of the ship had caved in where it had skidded across the earth, giving you both a way in. When you stop Ezra’s looking at you, “Any chance of survivors, little bird?”

You just shrug. “I doubt it after this. They were running a skeleton crew.” You wince slightly at the double entendre, hoping you have the time to find their bodies and pay their dues.

Ezra raises an eyebrow at you. “On a ship this big? That is most peculiar.”

“I guess, I didn't get a chance to think about it at the time.”

You go over the list again, 5 items, 5 areas. All small enough to carry in your packs. To yourself you add another item, just in case you get the chance.

“We stick together, watch each other’s backs.” You nod in agreement and you both step into the ship.

⧫⧫⧫

There's a faint dripping noise, like a clock ticking. It sets off your nerves as you leave the light of the suns. Inside is cast in red, a good sign the electrics haven't been fried, but totally unsettling. It casts humanoid shadows across the grated walls seemingly flickering with every step. Ezra had gone totally silent but his presence behind you is reassuring. Together you pry open the first door.

Inside has the same red light but the weapons board flashes at you telling you it's still live which is strange. You mumble it to Ezra. “These things usually shut down first after a crash, they drain loads of power that's usually diverted out.”

He frowns at you. “Mayhaps a malfunction? It looks like a rough crash.”

“Yeah. Probably.” But it niggles at the back of your brain. All you can do right now is ignore it so you wrench the panel out from the wall to the side and stick your arm in. Feeling around, you brush your fingers up against the dotted cylinder you need. These old ships had a habit of hiding important components in baffling locations, apparently to protect them in a crash which you do suppose this has, but you suspect it's to confuse novice engineers and pillagers alike. 

Ezra is keeping a sharp eye on the door but he can't help but enjoy watching you work, grumbling about what a stupid place this was for a fuse break and how it would have been harder to wreck their engine had it actually been where all the ships power came from. He grins at you and you smile back tugging the, whatever it was, out of the wall. He tosses his pack over to you.

“I'll get this one birdie,” making you roll your eyes but you gently place it in and hand it back. 

“Take care of that.”

“I'll cradle it as if it were a new-born.” He says so sincerely you can't help but snort.

“Don't worry too much, ships like these are made hardy, they don't just fry things like your pod.” He scowls playfully at you as you head back to the corridor.

“I will not hear a negative word about her, we've been together for years.”

The ship groans around you as if it's a living creature as you head deeper in. The maze of corridors makes Ezra feel turned around but you seem to know where to go and he follows dutifully. The next stop is a storage closet smaller than his little burrow.

Inside is a collection of boxes from which you produce two tiny discs. You look at Ezra, “I doubt they'll mind me taking a spare, these things are expensive.” Still not being entirely sure what everything you're searching for is, he just shrugs,

The moment of ease sputters out when you enter comms. There's a buzzing that sets your teeth on edge, someone's been on the radio. Ezra clicks it off but the silence is suddenly oppressive. Trying hard to hear any sign of life you scan the dark corners of the space. 

“We don't know how long this has been on.” Ezra’s voice is steady but there's an edge you know too well. You agree all the same, hurrying to rip the tubing out from under the console. The blinking lights shut off with a hum as Ezra takes it from you, looping it together and shoving it into his pack. You don't argue.

Two items left, you'd saved the cockpit and the engine till last, both at the opposite end of the ship. 

The door to the cockpit is open. you look at Ezra, his jaw is set glaring into it. You head in first moving swiftly to the control panel to the side to start pulling the whole thing apart for one measly chip. He disappears into the shadows to search the room. It's too big, too many places to hide, he thinks to himself trying to picture the best place for an ambush.

He finds one body, curled in on itself as if tossed into the corner. The next is under a nav table, arms over its head. The final one is the hardest to look at, in the pilot seat, hand still grasping the parachute release. He swallows as he takes in this futile effort to survive, picturing the final moments as the ground rises to meet them, the hopelessness.

He spins when he hears your voice.

“Wait, wait!”

“You should have stayed away-“

Ezra doesn't even think, he just shoots and the man with a blade at your throat drops. He didn't even know he could draw that fast. He fights off the adrenaline, calming his breathing as he approaches you. Your eyes are wide with shock and you take a deep breath looking up at him.

“Thank you, Ezra.”

He just wants to pull you close, hold you against him, protect you with his body. With the suits and helmets, it would be uncomfortable so he grabs your hand and pulls it to his chest.

“Think nothing of it.”

“I didn't think there could be any survivors.” At that he examined the body. Shit, the suit, the emblem, the skull etched into the glass of his helmet.

“That, little bird, is because there aren't any. It appears that the locals are here.”

You squeeze his hand. “We've got to hurry.”

He nods, “Give me three coins.”

He’s found them. You'd already known they'd be dead but the confirmation sits heavily over you. You hand him the coins.

“You finish here, I'll take care of them. Don't worry.”

The kindness he's showing by doing it for you aches in your chest. You take the frustration out on the unsuspecting control panel. Tearing into it, pulling parts out, desperately trying to get a grip on your emotions and breathe a sigh of relief when you emerge, chip in hand. No one has ever extracted one so quickly you reckon. You shove it in your pack.

Heading to Ezra you take his hand, try to convey thanks through the touch alone. Thanks for saving you, thanks for not making you bear this burden solitarily, thanks for just being company after so long alone. You look up at him, he's chewing his words again but doesn't speak so you turn and lead him out.

In the engine room you seize a battery and yank it from the wall, grateful the lights stay on. Ezra takes it from you. “Don't argue birdie I'm bigger than you.”

He's cut off by a horn echoing through the ship. You swallow. 

Taking his hand again, you both creep out of the room. Every sound is too loud, you curse your boots, the rattle of your tools, your own harsh breathing. You can't fail now, you're so close. At the sound of footsteps, you pull Ezra through a door into a room with bunks, closing the door as quietly as you can, you both hold your breath. As they pass the door his grip tightens on yours so much you feel the heat of his hand through your gloves. His eyes scan your face, like he's trying to memorise what you look like. You realise you’re doing the same to him.

When they pass you glance around the room as Ezra slumps against the door his eyes shut tightly. As you let go of him you see something in the corner of your eye. No fucking way. It's a gem case, unassuming on the outside but far bigger than the one Ezra carried. Item number six.

You shove it into your bag.

⧫⧫⧫

Neither of you seem to breath for the rest of your journey through the ship. Eyes and ears too peeled to do much else. The second you see the light outside you swallow. You say a prayer to yourself as you creep towards it.

The light blinds you as you step out. Something shoves you to the side, you hit the ground hard knocking the wind out of you as you try to see what hit you. The second your eyes adjust to the light you see Ezra trying to knock back one of the locals, trying to gain space to draw. You wrestle your pistol out of your holster and aim but you can't shoot. Their dance is too close and you're afraid to hit Ezra. 

It all happens in slow motion. The stranger thrusts his spear into Ezra's stomach and pulls it out. He cries out stumbling back giving you a straight shot. You fire the same moment as the local brings his spear down on Ezra’s helmet.

You shoot too late. 

Ezra drops back against the ship sliding to sit. Shattered glass glitters over the ground around you threatening to cut your knees as you crawl to him. His helmet is shattered.

“No no no no no” you press on the wound in his stomach tugging your pack off your back to get the med kit. “We've got to go, there's going to be more of them.”

He puts a hand over yours. “Little bird, I'm afraid my adventure has come to its conclusion”

You look at his face. “No Ezra! I can close this for now, we've got time. We can make it back.” His eyes are wide and sad, wet with the threat of tears. “Don't look at me like that!” There's desperation in your voice.

“You've got to go. Relieve yourself of my burden, you can repair the vessel and get away by yourself. You don't need me.”

“Shut up! I can't just leave you here.” You push his hands away and pull out a gun of sealing foam “Don't fucking argue with me, we've got so close you can't just give up.” Ignoring his arguments, you press the nozzle through his suit and fill his wound. He lets out a groan. As quick as you can, you pull your pack back on and stand seizing Ezra's arms and heaving him to his feet. He gives a short shout of pain but doesn't protest as you hook his arm over your shoulder for support.

You start to walk like this as the suns begin to dip. Keeping your pistol in your free hand you scan around you. The dead trees provide good cover but they also give any attackers the element of surprise so you do your best to listen out whilst you support Ezra.

It's a little difficult with his talking but you can't complain, not when it means he's still alive. But he's getting heavy, putting more weight on you, you don't know how long you can hold him up. Just as you're beginning to feel truly weak his topic of conversation changes.

“Little bird, it has been an exponential honour to be enclosed within your company. To have your trust if only a little. Kevva, the chance to learn your body the way I got to was a treasure worth more than any gem I could find. I only wish I could learn your mind just as intimately, to possess the knowledge of what makes you laugh, cry, your favourite food, favourite music. I'd cherish every drop of yourself you'd let me have until I could carry a vault of you with me”

“Ezra, don't…”

“The opportunity is being stolen from me, I both resent it and I'm so grateful for the time I've had. Little bird, don't let my soliloquy deceive you. I mean every word.”

You can't stop moving, but you grab onto him a little tighter. Letting yourself squeeze your eyes closed just for a moment to fight off the tears. There's no guarantee he'll survive, no hope yet, no point admitting feelings just to let him die. It would hurt too much.

You keep walking. Reminding Ezra to breath as slow as he can. Holding yourself together just to keep him upright.

Then you see it, your pod, through the trees, dark against the burning red sky. 

There are two locals at the door. They turn.

Before you can think to react, Ezra pushes you aside as a spear careens where you'd just been stood. Drawing before you can blink, he fires twice. The locals fall. And then, so does he.

⧫⧫⧫

You aren't sure if you're saying his name out loud or just in your head. You roll him into his back and try to shake him awake. He doesn't even stir. 

Instead, you seize the straps of his pack and use them to drag him towards your pod.

Your muscles are screaming after supporting him for so long but you don't let up, drawing strength from who knows where.

How did the pod seem so close minutes ago? Now it's miles away.

You don't know when you started crying.

You don't stop moving, can't stop until you've managed to pull him inside and seal the door. You yank off your helmet, tossing it aside and falling to your knees next to him pressing your ear to his chest, desperately trying to hear his heart through his suit.

It's dead silent.

That's when you scream. Tears streaming down your face you bring your fist down on his chest as hard as you can.

“Breath you bastard! Take a fucking breath!” You're sobbing now, “You can't just leave me here, leave me all alone. Not after all this. Not when we got so close.”

You curl over him pressing your face to his, your tears dripping onto him leaving tracks through the dust and blood on his skin. “You can't leave me alone,” it's barely a whisper. “Ezra.” You say his name over and over again like a prayer.

And then his chest moves. 

You don't know whether you should laugh. You just keep bawling as you tear off his suit and grab his hand.

He doesn't wake up but it's enough, you squeeze his warm hand for another second before wiping at your face and getting your med kit. “Let's see what I can do about this wound hmm?”

⧫⧫⧫

Ezra hears someone calling his name. But they seem so far away. He tries to move towards the voice but it's like moving through syrup. He lets himself sink back.

⧫⧫⧫

The wound is deep and spurts with blood as you pull out the foam, painting your hands in the same red as the sky outside. Pursing your lips, you apologise to him, hoping he doesn’t feel the pain. Cleaning the wound takes time but as far as you can tell the spear managed to avoid all his organs so you seal it up as best you can. The lack of oxygen is what has you truly worried, who knows what damage could have been done in the time it took you to drag him to the pod. With your medication he might heal but you can’t be sure. You fight off the thoughts of what you’d have to do if he never did wake up. Would you be able to bury him?

You sleep curled to his side, a hand on his shoulder. It’s fitful, plagued by nightmares of waking up to find him cold. Every time you wake up crying, you watch his chest rise and fall and pray, he’ll make his way back to you.

⧫⧫⧫

The next thing he hears is a clang followed by a curse, then it's silent again

⧫⧫⧫

Ezra made it through the night. To distract yourself from worrying he might never wake, you wrap him up warm and begin to repair the pod. It’s slow work but its methodical movements help regulate your breathing. Until you hear a grunt. You drop whatever you were working on and swear to yourself as you kneel by him. But he’s no more present than before. Perhaps you had imagined it. Prayed so hard you’d began torturing yourself. You look over him, how could you go on without him. No one to make you laugh, or care what happens to you. It’s justice you suppose, just another thing for you to feel guilty about. You suppose you’ll go on just to keep feeling that guilt.

Again, you barely sleep.

⧫⧫⧫

And then, as if surfacing from a dive, Ezra opens his eyes. His back hurts. He works out why as, slowly, he identifies the ceiling above him. He's lying on the floor with nothing more than a pillow and a blanket that's been tucked all around him up to his neck. He wrestles his arms free, stretching them above his head and then prodding his stomach, it's tender but the wound is closed. Then he sits up with a grunt.

You're stretching up to try and pull a ration bar of the top shelf of your measly kitchen cupboard. You swear and turn to find something to climb on and then you see Ezra.

He's sitting up, grinning from ear to ear. You nearly jump a foot into the air and then you’re frozen to the spot. He chuckles to himself and clambers to his feet, it looks difficult but you aren't sure you can move to help so you stay put as he supports himself along the wall and approaches you.

“Little bird, you are the most incredible, fascinating, stubborn creature I have ever laid my eyes upon.” And then he's pulling you into his chest, wrapping you in such a grip it's a little difficult to breath but you don't mind. You just hug him back, if gently, very aware of how he'd recently been stabbed. He buries his nose in your hair. “How long was I out?”

“Three days, I managed to melt down some meds to inject you so you… well, so you actually healed. Oh, and then I fixed the pod but it didn't feel safe to take off what with you having a hole in you.”

He laughs, you can feel it rolling through his body and it makes you grin. It's so alive.

“May I also ask why I was on the floor?” That's your cue to laugh to. 

“Do you honestly think I could lift you onto the cot?”

“Frankly little bird, I didn't think you could have got me to the pod. You are certainly a force to be reckoned with and not one to be underestimated.”

You close your eyes and breath him in. “I almost didn't make it.” He just shushes you running his hands up and down your sides.

“No point wondering what could have been birdie. You saved me.” You look up at him, his eyes are wet as he smiles down at you. “What I did to deserve it may evade my knowledge forever, but it must have been spectacular.”

You feed Ezra and then force him to stay still for the day. Even as he protests you don't really think he minds, finally getting an opportunity to finish reading ‘The Power’. You sleep curled into his side.

The next day you leave.

⧫⧫⧫

Two days floating in space before the station slings back to pick you up. The sense of relief is immense. Ezra is in the seat next to you, any other person telling such a graphic tale about a flight home wrong would've sprung anyone with nerves but you just grin. You made it, you both made it.

“Even split, little bird? Although, I can't say I find the idea of us separating particularly appealing.”

You grin, “Me neither, although I do maintain the even split, you save my arse, I save yours.”

He smirks, “I'll have your arse anytime” you smack his knee with what was formerly his copy of ‘Perfume’. He scowls playfully, tossing his own book aside and tugging you into his lap.

And then looks totally bemused as your mouth drops open, “Holy shit I can't believe I forgot!” You hop off him and he grumbles at you but watches curiously wondering what you'd forgotten that was so important. You kneel to open your pack, pulling out a gem case. A huge gem case.

“Where in that abhorrent hell did you manage to acquire that?”

“I think it was why I was told to bring down that ship, I picked it up in the bunk room.”

It's locked but you happily spend the next half an hour gently taking apart one screw at a time. Ezra watches you the whole time, not even thinking about your bounty, just enjoying how you hum to yourself and smile every time a screw comes loose, batting his hands away every time he grabs at you. It's domestic.

You meet his eye as the last screw comes loose and he joins you kneeling on the floor. “Let's not get our hopes up” you say, “We've got more than enough to last a while whatever happens.” He nods and you pull the case open.

His jaw drops. “That is remarkable.”

You meet his eye and laugh. You've never seen him look so surprised. There are three gems inside, each one about the size of your head.

He lets out a huff of laughter “I’m beginning to suspect there was nefarious business afoot on that ship…”

“Ezra?”

“Mmhm?”

“I think I'd like to go somewhere with a sea.”

“Little bird, I suspect that can be arranged” Then he kisses you, pulling you against him.

You wriggle back, “Even split?” He just grins and bites at your ear.

In no time at all you’re in his lap as you pull off each other’s clothes. He rubs his beard against your bare neck to make you giggle as he nibbles it, hands roaming all over you. You nip his collar bone making him groan, it flips a switch in him and seconds later he’s grabbing your hips to position you over his cock.

He lowers you down so slowly it makes you squirm and whimper and beg him to move.

He grins at you, catlike, “We’ve got all the time in the world, little bird. And I intend to use it”

⧫⧫⧫

Hours later you wake. Ezra is snoring quietly into your neck tempting you to rouse him. You’re thirsty though, so, reluctantly, you peel his arms off you to get a glass of water. As you return your toe catches on your suit where it lies on the floor. As you reach to move it your ring drops out of the pocket, clinking quiet onto the ground.

You bend to pick it up and look at Ezra, then back at the ring. Had you not gone through all those years in that gang of pirates, you’d never have found him, never got to save his arm or his life. You both might be dead. You had been right; you couldn’t change your past. But you’d never know what else might have happened. There’s still guilt, there always will be. But you feel a little lighter.

You put on the ring and return to Ezra. He pulls you against his chest without waking.

You smile.

~~~~~~~~

Taglist: @engineeredfiction @mothandpidgeon @sleep-tight1

[lumosinlove]

Zero proof reading, but just set a little writing exercise for myself:

One-paragraph stories per song: wolfstar edition

the 1

They hadn’t even kept in touch enough for Remus to know they went to the same university, but he’d know the set of his shoulders anywhere, even tensed and kissing some boy against a wall.

Sirius didn’t see him until he was turning around, lips red and swollen. His eyes had widened, and Remus was glad to see that he was at least as flustered as Remus was—Sirius went to go get a drink before he came up to talk.

“You’re here,” Sirius smiled. It had come after a brief, one-armed hug. Remus had breathed him in. Sirius didn’t settle him like he used to. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t some day again. “I guess we never really said goodbye, huh?”

“Well, we didn’t exactly paint by numbers, did we?” Remus tried to laugh. “But, you know.”

Sirius raised an eyebrow, like he didn’t.

“Who does these days?”

“Who ever did?” Sirius replied.

Remus nodded down at his drink.

Us, he wanted to say. At least in the end.

cardigan

Sirius slumped into him. “I don’t know.”

He heard his own voice break, and then the tremor of his own muscles against Remus’ steady hand reaching beneath his sweatshirt.

“Are you sure about that?” Remus asked quietly, breath warm against Sirius’ neck. “Just come in. It’s freezing.”

“My train,” Sirius said. “No.” He sniffed, pressing his hands to Remus’ shoulders, pushing himself away. “I just—I came to say goodbye.”

Remus looked like he was trying not to look like anything. His eyes darted here and there, and he nodded. “There are other trains.”

the last great american dynasty

“This is Holiday House, isn’t it?” the boy dressed in black asked. He had stepped out of the curtains, but it had seemed as though he had stepped out of the shadows themselves.

Remus wasn’t sure he was going to be able to reply. His heart was pounding, and the moon was glinting off of the knives in the boy’s hand—the one strapped to his thigh, and another to his forearm. The party was loud all around them, muffled by the doors. Laughing silhouettes passed outside of the windows, where the boy had been hiding. Remus had stepped out just for a moment, a moment away from the chaos of it all—and stepped into this.

Remus nodded.

The boy moved like the dark again: terrifying for an unexplainable reason. He didn’t pull his mask down, but suddenly he was in front of Remus, eyes silver in the light.

“Are you its master?”

“No,” Remus choked out. “A guest.”

exile

Sirius tucked his face into Remus’ neck as the news reels began to play.

September third, 1942, the voice announced. Have you donated to our great cause?

Sirius kissed Remus’ neck gently, in the back, in the dark, empty theater as soldiers marched across the screen.

“Sweetheart,” Remus smiled, scolding but leaning into Sirius’ mouth, his touch. “You’re trouble.”

“We’ve seen this before,” Sirius whispered. He kissed Remus’ cheek, pressing his hand beneath the lapel of Remus’ suit jacket. “Come on. Sneak out with me.”

“Just let me hear the news,” Remus smiled. “Then, we can go.”

“It’s not going to end well,” Sirius replied. “Why rub it in?”

Remus rubbed his knee, where Sirius knew the bullet had lodged. Sirius glanced at the silhouette of Remus’ crutch.

“It’s not rubbing it in,” Remus said. “It’s knowing what I fought for.”

my tears ricochet

“Because I’m—” Remus couldn’t help it, he shoved Sirius a little. “angry with you. God, Black.”

Sirius all but scoffed. “Oh, we’re back to Black again?”

Remus just took a long, slow breath. The boats in the marine tinkled against each other in the morning. The spring breeze was crisp and a relief. Remus could still smell the sticky beer of the bar from last night, as though it was stuck in his nose. That, and the sweat from what had felt like a hundred celebrating people. The Kraken wins the Stanley Cup! Remus felt the fatigue as much as he felt the victory. When he looked at Sirius, he felt both even more keenly.

“You don’t get to just swoop back in like the hero,” Remus said.

“I’m not a hero, and a certainly don’t know how to swoop,” Sirius bit back. “Just let me apologize.” His eyes softened, the same silver as the victory they’d won. “Please.”

mirrorball

Sirius was singing a new song, Remus thought as he looked up from the back of the crowd. He hadn’t announced it as one, but the audience had taken up the clue quickly, shouting their approval and drunkenly trying to sing along.

The lights were bright on the stage, and Remus swallowed at the sight of the sweat dampening Sirius’ brow. He swallowed again, wishing he had a drink, when Sirius’ eyes found his own. He smiled around the word heartbeat, but the lyric was lost on Remus. He felt heat, low in his stomach. He thought of Sirius’ open-mouthed kisses in his dressing room, just moments ago. He thought of their hips, pressing together.

Sirius was singing a new song, and it made Remus’ blood sing, too.

seven

“Are there still beautiful things?”

The sands of Troy’s beaches were cold with the night, but Remus was thankful. He looked at Sirius, waiting for an answer to his question.

There was red everywhere. Crusting on their clothes, their faces and hands. But Sirius didn’t seem to care. He knelt in front of Remus, and put his hands on his cheeks.

“Let me show you,” Sirius said, and when he leaned in close the smell of blood was stronger. It streaked both of them. They had killed today. Remus wondered if staying alive even meant anything at all anymore. It meant more waiting. More heavy guilt.

“You are,” Remus whispered. “But you’re one of the only things left.”

august

Rough seas were calm underneath. When Sirius fell in from the decks above, everything had gone blissfully quiet. No wind. No rain. No terrified shouts as men fell to their deaths—one of which had been his own.

Mute. Slow movements. At least for a moment. At least until the water’s frigid temperatures kicked in. The chill seared almost hot, and Sirius felt heavy with it. He let himself sink, the water getting darker around him.

Then, something touched his back. Arms wrapped around him, slowing his descent even further, and a face appeared. It was a boy’s face, young and almost white in the lack of light. His eyes glowed bronze, short hair drifting around his face. There were ugly slashes on his neck, but they moved rhythmically. Gills, Sirius’ brain supplied dully. Sirius could barely keep his eyes open.

“Are you sure?” the boy said. Sirius didn’t know how he had heard the words, oxygen filled as though they had been spoken in air. Perhaps the sea was this boy’s air.

“No,” Sirius tried to say, but he wasn’t sure he succeeded.

The boy pressed his lips together, then nodded. The arms tightened around Sirius, and together they sunk down below.

[matbarzyy]

To Love Is To Let Go [A.B.]

Pinterest board

How can the heart and mind find a balance when love and yearning are mixed up with distance and responsibilities?

A/N: I’m so excited for you guys to finally read this! Another conversation about Tito with @itrocksmysocks​ made us create this story and I ended up writing it, so I hope you’ll like it!

Word count: 12219

Warning: A tiny bit of smut

.

“If you don’t go get that man I swear!” Adeline’s friend, Maya, exclaimed as she gave her shoulder a push.

They were out to celebrate together in Montreal because a month had now passed since Adaline moved there for her internship assisting a book editor, and it had to be memorable.

“Okay okay! I’m doing it!” The brunette adjusted her skirt, fixed a strand of her hair, and took a deep breath. “I’m going,” she said more for herself than anyone else.

            The man across the bar had finally gotten up from the table he was at with his friends to order a drink, and that was the perfect opportunity for Adeline to go up to him. She might not get another chance during the night, so with an extra push from her friend, she found herself walking over to where he was.

“Hi,” she greeted him shyly, making him turn his attention to her. Her voice felt a little weak and looking straight into his blue eyes was more destabilizing than she thought it would be.

“Hi,” he replied as he waited, his tone suggesting she had to continue quickly if she didn’t want to lose his attention.

“I, uh,” Adeline struggled before getting a hold of herself again. She wasn’t a fifteen years old high school girl admitting her crush to a boy, she was a confident woman in a bar, and she was going to act like one. “I saw you sitting with your friends earlier and I figured now was a good time to come ask if I could get you a drink.” She let the sentence out without a hitch, and a little sense of pride filled her until his lack of reaction made her deflate. “Or not, it’s fine if not.”

“No, no,” he reassured her as a smile spread on his face. “I mean, yeah, you can get me a drink, if I can get your name,”

“Adeline,” she told him without hesitation.

“Adeline,” he repeated before nodding. “That’s pretty, I’m Anthony, but most of my friends call me Tito.”

            With the introductions over, Adeline leaned against the bar beside him and the bartender came over to them. One drink soon turned into two, the alcohol was going down fast to erase the nervousness, but their conversation was flowing surprisingly easily. Nevertheless, three drinks were all it took for Adeline and Maya to be reunited in the bathroom.

“So?” She grilled her for the details while Adeline pressed her palms over her cheeks, trying to get herself to cool down.

“I really like him,” she admitted to Maya and shushed out her excitement immediately after. “But he could still be a weirdo, he’s too nice to be true.”

“Honey, he’s not a weirdo, he’s a professional hockey player,” Maya chuckled as she revealed everything she knew. “Why do you think he’s so hot?”

“How do you know?” A frown settled on the brunette’s face as she pieced everything together.

“He’s a NHL player, how do you not know?” Her friend countered and reached up to remove a small piece of fluff from her hair.

“Oh my god,” Adeline breathed out. “Why didn’t you tell me before?”

“It was sweet you didn’t know,” Maya shrugged. “Now go back out there and make him swoon.”

            When they returned, Anthony was sitting at a small table by himself, and she didn’t hesitate to join. Maya was friends with one of the bartenders there, so it wasn’t like she minded being left alone.

“I figured it’d be more comfortable,” he explained as she took a seat. “Especially if we keep on going at that pace,”

“You figured right,” Adeline, put her elbow on the table and rested her chin on her hand. “My friend told me something interesting about you,”

“Should I start worrying?” He exhaled a nervous chuckle, but she shook her head almost imperceptibly.

“You play hockey?” She looked into his eyes to gauge his reaction. Maybe the alcohol was hindering her perceptiveness, but if she was right it looked like the question made him sad.

“Ah,” Tito’s nervousness settled but a sense of disappointment replaced it. “I kinda suspected you knew already,”

“I had no clue until five minutes ago, figured it was only fair to tell you,” Adeline told him the truth because she knew instantly that the kind of attention he got from being a professional athlete wasn’t necessarily the kind of attention he wanted. “Was it better when I didn’t know?”

“Yes and no,” he replied honestly. “Yes, because it meant you just liked me and not for shitty reasons. No because I wasn’t going to hide it anyway, and you didn’t know for the past hour, so I feel like we’re good,”

“Good,” she smiled. “Feel like having another drink?”

            Tito wasn’t one to turn the offer down, and the two spilled things to each other that they would have never considered sharing with a stranger before. It was freeing to talk without boundaries, to be able to say anything on any subject and listen to someone else’s perspective of the world. Adeline thought he was interesting for someone so different. He was down to earth and witty, constantly making her laugh with the dumbest jokes, and maybe it was because she was drunk, but deep down she knew the butterflies and giddiness she felt weren’t from the alcohol.

“You’re so damn adorable,” Tito blurted out in the middle of one of her sentences, and silence fell onto their conversation.

            Adeline stared at him while a smile spread on her face, but the cuteness of the moment was cut off by both of them bursting out laughing for no apparent reason. It was a fit of uncontrolled giggles at first, followed by an outburst of deep laughs that they thought would never stop.

“We’re so fucking drunk,” Adeline managed to squeak out through shakes of her chest.

“Yeah, you might wanna let go of this,” Tito reached to gently push her drink a few inches away from her hand, but his inhibitions were low and he underestimated his strength, sending the glass sliding all the way to the edge of the table.

            Their eyes widened in shock when it stopped just before falling to the floor, and with that another fit of unstoppable laughter began.

            It was something neither of them ever experienced that strongly, that connection with a stranger that made them feel like they had known each other their own lives. In the middle of their busy, messy lives, they had found a bubble of happiness and oxygen within each other.

            It took several minutes for them to calm down, and when a relatively normal conversation resumed, Maya walked over to them to ask if she should leave on her own or wait for Adeline. Time had flown by and it was past one in the morning already.

“Five minutes?” The brunette barely looked away from Tito, and Maya took the hint.

“Well, before you go,” He waited until she had walked away to continue. “Can I ask for your number or do you have to be the one taking all the first steps?”

“You can have my number.”

.

            Getting into the uber with Maya was a blur, all that Adeline knew was that she was feeling like a kid on Christmas eve after her night with Tito. She wasn’t drunk enough that she couldn’t make a sentence or walk, but definitely drunk enough to zone out and say everything on her mind no matter how stupid or embarrassing.

“Oh my god, he’s already texting?” Maya took the phone from her inebriated friend’s hands after it buzzed multiple times. “Damn,” she looked over the few messages they had started to exchange.

            Adaline didn’t respond, only giggling drunkenly before getting her phone back and focusing on the screen to type another reply. Everything was a little bit blurry, especially in the moving car, but once it stopped in front of her building she sobered up a little.

“Drink some water before bed, yeah?” Her friend told her as she opened the door.

“Yep! Text when you’re home!” Adeline gave her friend a loud kiss on the cheek before getting out and somehow walking to the door without stumbling.

T: Fries would be sooooo good right now

            The text came just as she kicked her shoes off while the door fell shut behind her. She groaned out loud at the idea, heading to her bedroom with her phone in hand.

A: Don’t talk to me about food I’m starving now

T: Make food?

A: I can barely hold my phone

            Adeline struggled to take her clothes off and sighed in relief once she was finally naked.

T: What if I come over with fries?

A: Omg you would?

T: Address?

“Well shit,” she laughed to herself as she grabbed a pair of grey sweatpants, pairing them with a comfy t-shirt because she was too drunk and tired to put in an effort with sexy pajamas. She was pretty sure sex wasn’t an option for tonight anyway, they were both too drunk, it wouldn’t get anywhere.

            Adeline sat on her living room floor to stay awake as she waited, her head lolling from side to side as she scrolled through social media, laughing and snorting out loud in ways she’d never do sober. It only took ten minutes for Tito to text he was there, and she jumped back up with renewed energy at the idea of food.

“My savior!” She exclaimed as she opened the door for him and saw the paper bag in his hands.

“Shh, your neighbors!” Tito laughed at her, letting himself in and giving her the bag before following her to the living room.

“Fuck Tito,” Adeline took in the smell of the fries as she opened one of the boxes and handed it to him. “I owe you big time,”

“They’re just fries,” he sat on the carpet with her. “But I’d take some ketchup,”

“Oh, yeah!” She crawled over to the fridge that was easily accessible since she had an open kitchen. The apartment wasn’t huge, but since the kitchen and living room were merged the living space was big enough.

“Mph,” Tito groaned as he stuffed fries in his mouth. “Best decision ever,”

“And does this look like a good decision?” She said to catch his attention, a bottle of tequila in hand.

“It looks like a terrible decision and I’m so down for it.”

            Adeline sat on the floor with him, food, condiment, and bottle of tequila all within reach. She took the first gulp, big enough that it was worth more than a shot, and Tito followed her lead.

            The rest of the night was erased from both of their memories.

            When she woke up, Adeline felt her body ache in ways it rarely had before. She was still on the floor and there was a bad taste in her mouth as she opened her eyes. The paper bag that Tito brought over was on the floor along with two empty boxes that once held the fries. Tito himself was on the floor too, and his position looked more than uncomfortable, but his mouth was slightly parted, and his chest was rising and falling at a steady rhythm.

“Hey,” Adeline rasped out, nudging him with her foot. “You alive?” She asked as he stirred awake.

            An unconvinced grunt reached her in response, and Tito brought his hands up to rub his face.

“Time?” He groaned, counting on her to have her eyes open.

“Eleven,” she pushed herself up and grabbed the counter while a wave of nausea washed over her. “Advil?”

“Fuck yes,”

            Tito managed to get up too and downed two glasses of water with the pills Adeline handed him. They were both silent as they sat on the couch and took some time to really wake up. The apartment was on a low floor, and for the first time since she moved in, Adeline was glad for the lack of light that came from outside.

“I’m gonna make pancakes.” She eventually said, deciding breakfast was the only way her stomach would settle.

“Oh, so you’re going to beat me to every nice gesture?” Tito teased although he was glad he was about to eat. She gave him a look and he only smiled, leaning back more comfortably on the couch. “Jokes aside, this was the best night I’ve had in forever.”

“Me too,” Adeline hummed, already pouring milk into the rest of her ingredients and stirring. She cooked breakfast so often she could make pancakes with her eyes closed. “It was a lot more fun than any stupid party I’ve gone to lately,”

            The conversation shifted to small talk after that, something to keep themselves busy as they got lost in thoughts. There was some unspoken communication going on, they obviously had chemistry, but they had only known each other for one night and they were already being so domestic it was scary for both of them.

It was clear they could build something together if they gave it a try, but Tito didn’t live in Montreal, and why the hell was Adeline even thinking so far ahead already? She tried her best to focus on cooking to get all of the ideas out of her head and stacked the pancakes in plates before bringing them over to the table.

“I want to eat these every morning for the rest of my life,” Tito almost moaned when he took the first bite of his food.

            Adeline always kept maple syrup around, and this morning she even had some chocolate spread and strawberries left from this week’s grocery shopping. It made for an amazing breakfast.

“Thanks, I cook a lot,” she explained as she dug into her own food. “The cleaning up is the not fun part.”

“I hate dishes,” Tito nodded his agreement.

“A nice guest would offer to do them after I just cooked,” she pointed out to see what’d he’d say, and he put on his best angel face.

“Mmh, but a nice host would politely refuse that kind of offer,” he tried to serve his half ass excuse with a smile.

“Do you want more pancakes, or do you want to get kicked out?” Adeline gave him a murderous look in response, and Tito forgot to chew as he swallowed his next bite.

“Pancakes, definitely the pancakes. Promise I’ll do the dishes.”

.

            When the Sunday ended, Tito went home and Adeline spent hours in a bath trying to set her mind straight. She liked him a lot, there was no denying that, but would they ever be able to make anything work? He was an amazing person and they had a great night together, but it didn’t mean he’d let himself fall for her too, especially since he lived in New York most of the time.

            A sigh fell from her lips in the steam-filled bathroom, and she let her body slide down for her head to be submerged. The world turned silent and dark for a few seconds, it helped her empty her mind of all thoughts. When she pushed herself up with her feet and oxygen filled her lungs again, Adeline felt a little better.

            Little did she know that Tito was dealing with the same dilemma in his own shower. He had tried to work out to sweat the hangover off, but seeing that the twenty minutes of running only worsened his headache, he didn’t take it further than that. It wasn’t really the hangover that was bothering him, it was the feelings he was catching for a woman he had known for less than twenty-four hours.

            Was that what love at first sight was supposed to be like? Sure, it wasn’t exactly at first sight, Tito had only felt a connection with her the second she opened her mouth, not the second he saw her, but what even was the difference at this point? How could he even think of the word love? It was a crush at first sight at best.

            No matter what they told themselves, Tito and Adeline couldn’t stop thinking about each other. Their constant texting the following days didn’t help either. The conversation was never boring enough to die, and when one of them fell asleep they picked up where they left off as soon as they were up in the morning. Sometimes, Adeline found herself giggling out loud because he reminded her of something he just remembered they laughed about when drinking tequila on her living room floor.

            It was Wednesday when Adeline found herself in her bed wishing she could talk to him like they did a few nights prior. There weren’t many boundaries with Tito, they were obviously flirting and open about it, so she didn’t hesitate to tell him she missed seeing him. His name flashed on her screen a second later with a cute picture of his drunk face she didn’t remember taking Saturday night. He was smiling like an idiot, obviously still half laughing, and his blue eyes were sparkling with joy. Adeline hadn’t seen it, but she knew he had one of her too.

“Hello,” she said a little shyly when she saw her face on the screen. She looked like a bit of a mess.

“Hi beautiful,” Tito grinned from his bed, his short hair somehow messed up from the pillow.

“Shut up,” Adeline covered her face with her hand, but he only laughed on the other hand of the line.

“You know, it’s not fair if you get to see me and I don’t,” he reminded her to make her drop her hand. “I missed seeing you too.”

“Mmh, so when are we having a repeat of Saturday night?” She asked him because he had vaguely mentioned making plans during the day.

“Never,” he rolled his eyes. “That headache was killing me. We could do something else, maybe dinner?”

“Are you asking me out on a date, Beauvillier?” Adeline teased, hiding the way her heart jumped in her chest.

“Yeah, how do you feel about it?” His smile was as big as hers when he replied, confident she’d say yes based on the look on her face.

“I feel like I’m free tomorrow night and I’d love to go out.”

“I’ll pick you up at seven?” Tito thought of a restaurant to bring her to immediately, and he made a mental note to call for a reservation in the morning.

“It’s a date.”

.

            Hugging Tito when he came to pick her up felt natural to Adeline. Butterflies erupted in her stomach the second he knocked, and her heart was ready to beat out of her chest when his arms closed around her.

“Hi you,” he kissed her cheek and she just about melted against him.

“Hi,” Adeline greeted him and let go before she made things awkward. “You look nice.” She complimented as she took notice of the navy shirt he was wearing. It matched the blouse she wore tucked in her tweed skirt. August wasn’t too cold in Montreal and she knew she’d be okay with tights.

“Thank you,” he smiled. “You look great too, I like your hair like that.” Tito had to stop himself from reaching up and touching it “Are you ready to go?”

            Adeline murmured a quick thanks and nodded while her cheeks burned. She wasn’t easily intimidated but something about the prospect of a date with Tito was making her nervous. What if they didn’t click now that they were sober and seeing each other in person?

“Hey, everything okay?” Tito asked once they were both sitting in his car and Adeline still hadn’t said a word.

“Yeah, sorry, I’m just…” She coughed a little to clear her throat and he finished the sentence for her.

“Nervous?”

“Kind of.”

“Me too,” he admitted and glanced at her for a second, keeping his main focus on the road. “That night was great, I just want everything to live up to those expectations now,”

“I feel the same,” Adeline told him, her nerves settling now that she knew he could relate. “But if we can get along when we’re drunk and stupid we can handle a first date, right?”

“Right, as long as you don’t make me sleep on your living room floor tonight, we’re good,” Tito joked, he could still feel the ache in his back.

“First of all, you passed out on said floor, I didn’t make you. Second, bold of you to assume you’re getting invited in again.” She laughed at him. Thoughts of how the night would end had filled her mind all day long despite all the work she had to get done, but none of the scenarios involved him sleeping at her place yet. It wasn’t that she didn’t want it, but it was far too early for something like that. She didn’t want to risk ruining whatever was between them by rushing in.

“What if I bring fries?” He pushed his luck, but it was all playful, and Adeline shook her head again.

“Nice try, but you’re feeding me before we get home this time,”

“Mmh, I’m sure I’ll figure something out.” He rested his hand on her knee, and she moved a little closer to him until the end of the drive.

            Tito didn’t get invited in that night, and he was okay with it. He would have been okay with anything after the way she kissed him in front of her door. Maybe it was stupid, but he’d never gotten a kiss like that after a date that didn’t end up leading to something more too fast. There was something more between him and Adeline, and this was easily the best kiss of his life.

“Is that too soon?” She had hesitated, her hand on his cheeks and lips less than an inch away from his.

“No,” Tito replied, anything else he might have wanted to say cut off by her kiss. His body melted against hers, his hand pulling her waist closer as they moved their lips slowly, exchanging a passionate yet sweet kiss.

            He replayed the moment in his mind the whole ride home, grinning stupidly and humming along to songs on the radio with renewed cheerfulness. For a while he thought they’d keep kissing in front of her door forever, but noise from a door slamming upstairs reminded them they were still in a corridor. With a few nervous chuckles and one last kiss, Tito had left, and now nothing could ruin his good mood.

            That date was followed by another the next week, and another a few days later, until they were so attached to each other they spent every free second they had together. Tito sometimes showed up to her place in the morning with coffee and a bagel from her favorite café so that he could drive her to work. When it was time for her lunch break he’d pick her up and they’d eat out somewhere.

            Since it was the off season he didn’t have many obligations, and while Adeline insisted he didn’t have to drive her everywhere, Tito just really wanted to. He usually spent the morning in the gym to stay in shape, and he used the afternoon to see some friends and his family. Every other moment was reserved for Adeline only.

            Her internship kept her busy outside of working hours too, but she always managed to make him fit in her schedule and doubled her efforts on some nights to be free during others. It was tough but Adeline’s motivation had never been higher, there was so much happiness in her life that no task seemed too big to accomplish.

            Before meeting him, she’d spend all her free time outside or writing poems, which Tito often said she should still do without him. He didn’t want to take away from her personal space and habits, but she simply shook her head and shut him up with a kiss every time. She had never been more inspired than she was when he was around, and her poems gained in quality and length even with less time spent working on them. They weren’t the work of her brain, but of her heart.

“You got me flowers?” Adeline beamed one evening when he picked her up and she spotted the bouquet in the car.

“I should have hidden it in the back,” Tito sighed at the ruined surprise. “But yeah, I haven’t done that for you before. Do you like them?”

“I love pink gerberas,” she leaned over to kiss his cheek. “Thank you.”

            The rest of the drive was quiet, and when they reached her apartment, Tito got to come inside with her for the first time since they were drunk together. Adeline placed the flowers in a vase at the center of her dinner table and smiled to herself. They matched her coasters; it was her favorite color when it came to flowers. It was only a lucky guess, but Tito really had a way to make her swoon with every little gesture.

“It’s not very big, but let me show you around properly this time,” Adeline had cleaned the previous day and made sure to make her bed in the morning so that she could show him.

            They spent the end of the day together, Adeline cooking for both of them and Tito doing dishes as she cooked to help out. It was nice and comfortable, but they were both more than happy when they could finally crash on the couch together.

“Wanna watch something?” She asked, cuddled against his chest. She could have stayed like that forever, just listening to his heartbeat, but she didn’t want him to get bored.

“Mmh, what are you thinking?” Tito rested a hand in the middle of her back, relaxing into her warmth and the soft comforting smell of her place.

“You pick,” Adeline turned the TV on, picked Netflix and handed him the remote so that he could scroll through what was available.

“TV show or movie?” He took note of the things she was currently watching as he scrolled down, and she shrugged against him.

“Movie?” She decided randomly. Her only thought was that she didn’t want him to leave after just one episode of a TV show.

            It was clear they were attracted to each other, but everything had been so perfect in their relationship so far that neither pushed for dates to end with more than a kiss. Adeline’s work was a lot to handle on some days, and she was exhausted on most nights, so Tito never felt like insisting he should come in, even just to spend the night cuddling. He knew he’d keep her up forever because they could rarely stop talking once they started.

            He picked a movie that looked half decent with her approval, oblivious to the fact that neither of them was planning on watching it anyway. Adeline only wanted to enjoy the feeling of being in his arms like that, and he couldn’t care less about anything in the world as long as he could feel her against him.

“You ever think of how crazy it is that we started getting along so well so fast?” She eventually whispered, wondering if he was one to talk during movies or if he liked watching them without interruption.

            The usual answer would have been without interruption, but Tito was much more interested in Adeline than in the movie that night.

“I do, yeah,” he rubbed motions with his thumb on her back. “And it just makes me glad I found you,”

“I feel good around you,” Adeline lifted her head so that she could look at him for a second, she was met with a soft smile, followed by an even softer kiss.

“Should we…” He panted as she kissed back with a little more purpose. “Should we maybe ditch the movie?” Her lips moved to his cheek and down his jaw, making him bite back a groan until she was leaving kisses on his neck and he couldn’t hold it back anymore.

“Yes,” she didn’t hesitate in her answer, lifting herself off him.

            Tito got up after her and pulled her back to him for a passionate kiss, both of them stumbling as she tried to step back towards her bedroom. They chuckled against each other before parting long enough to make it there, and the heaviness of the moment settled on them when they finally sat on the bed.

            Adeline got a condom out of her bedside drawer and placed it on the bed so that they wouldn’t have to worry about it later, and as soon as that was done Tito’s lips were back on hers. Feeling him close to her helped her relax, so she followed his guiding hands until she was straddling him and sitting back on his thighs.

            There was no rush to their movements, they made out slowly and let their hands wander to begin exploring each other, over their clothes at first, and then slipping underneath the fabrics. Their shirts were first to go, and the sight of their bodies like that was enough for them both to need a moment to just breathe. When their lips joined and they found themselves chest to chest again, the desire and heat of the kiss grew stronger.

            Tito’s hands were on her waist, caressing softly before trailing up her back and finding the clasp of her bra. He murmured a question between kisses, and the breathy yes he got in response encouraged him to undo the clasp and remove the material from her body.

            His touches were gentle, pulling quiet gasps out of her as soon as he left her lips to kiss over her neck, looking for the tender spots that made her hips roll so close to his. Adeline’s hands were on his chest, discovering every muscle and the way they clenched when he moved to gently push her back on the mattress. She resisted the urge to hide herself from him, and Tito was nothing but loving as he found the spots that made her breathing hitch with the tips of his fingers.

            Her jeans were next to go, her underwear following a second after while she tugged at Tito’s clothes to get him to remove them too. She used the opportunity to get him on his back and kissed her way down his chest, earning a quiet moan that turned her on so much she almost moaned back just from the noise.

“Baby,” Tito breathed out when her lips pressed over the bulge in his boxers. “Not tonight, please,” his chest was rising and falling faster.

“Okay,” she listened and lifted her head to kiss his stomach again instead, but he could still see the silent question in her eyes.

“You’re going to kill me if you do this right now.” He explained as he reversed the position, adjusting her until she was comfortably resting on a pillow.

“That’s why it’s so fun,” Adeline grinned, and he laughed before their lips met again.

            The kiss was a little messier because of how hard it was for them to stop smiling, but everything intensified when Tito’s fingers found a spot high up on her inner thigh that made her whimper into his mouth.

“That okay?” He whispered close to her ear, kissing the spot just underneath it as she gasped her affirmation.

            He didn’t waste another second before slowly sliding two of his fingers against her and rubbing gentle circles over her clit. Adeline clutched his back in response, moaning softly and moving her hips up for more contact. She was overwhelmed by everything about him, from the light scratch of his beard against her skin when he nibbled at her jaw, the warmth of his almost-naked body close to hers, to the incredible feeling of his fingers rubbing against her perfectly.

            Tito held back moans that threatened to come out just from feeling her dripping for him. He kissed her deeply as he slowly slid his fingers further down and inside of her, his thumb replacing them over her clit. The noises she made into his mouth made him roll his hips against the mattress for some relief, and his chest swelled with pride every time he felt her body react to his touch.

            There had been so much anticipation between them, such a long build up and so many kisses that lingered as they both ached for more, that it didn’t take long for Adeline to feel herself get close to the edge. She clutched Tito’s back harder, holding onto him for dear life as she tried to keep her legs still to let him keep going.

            Her moans and gasps sped up when he let go of her lips and opted for kissing her neck instead to let her breathe, and it all encouraged him to pick up his pace, curling his fingers into her sweet spot until he could feel her body trembling. Adeline’s jaw dropped as she came, her legs closing over Tito’s hand, but it didn’t stop him from moving his fingers slowly to ride her through it.

            He was slow to pull his hand away when her body finally relaxed again, peppering kisses over her face. She wanted to bask in the feeling forever, but the second Tito pulled away from her to shuffle his boxers off, a new kind of hunger overtook her. She didn’t give him time to come back on top of her, pushing herself up and straddling him again instead.

            Tito made quick work of the condom before her lips could latch back onto his and they found themselves chest to chest with no barrier between them. Adeline’s legs wrapped around his waist as he grabbed her ass to pull her to him. They stared into each other’s eyes, resting their foreheads together and sometimes letting their noses brush before Tito reached between their bodies and finally placed his tip at her entrance.

            He didn’t break eye contact for a second as he filled her slowly, tightening his grip around her until they were as close as they could get to each other. The kiss they shared let them swallow each other’s moans and groans as they began rocking together, barely pulling away from each other before making their bodies meet again.

            The temperature rose fast in the room, and a thin layer of sweat covered their skin as they clung to each other. Adeline had never felt this close to someone before, and she had to bury her face in his neck to escape the overwhelming intensity of her feelings when she looked into his eyes.

            Tito pulled her even closer at that, grinding against her and softly moaning every time she clenched around him. He was right on the edge, trying to hold back to get her to come one last time, but everything about her felt like heaven to him. His lips found her shoulder, leaving a few kisses there as he felt himself lose control, his thighs clenching hard while his teeth lightly dug into her skin.

            His pleasured groan got Adeline to fall apart right after him, her body tightening beautifully in his arms as the noises leaving her lips echoed his. They breathed heavily against each other, remaining still for a few minutes and just letting themselves enjoy the afterglow close together.

            Tito pulled away first, carefully letting her down on the bed and kissing her one last time before heading to her bathroom to dispose of the condom. She took a turn in there to clean up right after him, and as soon as she was back in bed, she cuddled close to his chest again.

“Was that okay?” He kissed the top of her head, and her chest shook with a chuckle.

“That wasn’t okay,” Adeline shuffled up so that they could be face to face. “It was amazing,”

“Yeah?” He beamed and she nodded, angling her head to ask for another kiss.

            Tito gave in easily, humming against her lips while she guided him onto his back and rested her forearms on his torso to look at him.

“I’m falling in love with you,” she breathed out without hesitation, looking straight into his eyes and watching them widen as soon as he processed the words.

“I’m falling in love with you too,” he managed to answer even with the breath knocked out of his lungs. “I’m falling so hard.”

.

            Their honeymoon phase lasted as long as Tito’s time in Montreal did.

She even met his parents one weekend, and a few of his friends through the weeks. It was all too perfect until his last week before having to get back to New York came along.

“What’s going to happen when you’re in New York?” Adeline addressed it as they walked in a park together on his last Monday in Montreal, her hand in his. It was late and a little cold, but the darkness was calm.

“I’m not sure,” Tito swallowed heavily, looking straight ahead because there was no good solution. “I just… I want whatever’s best for you,”

“You’re what’s best for me, I don’t want to lose you.” Her hand slipped from his as they stopped walking and turned to face each other.

            Adeline searched his eyes for an answer, but her fears kept growing with every passing moment. The feelings she had for Tito were unlike anything she ever experienced before, and she was terrified of seeing their relationship end. It was the last thing she could ever want, but he had to make the best decision for his career.

“Then I’m yours,” he reached out and grasped both of her hands in his, bringing them up to kiss her knuckles. “I know not everyone can handle long distance but… but we can’t know until we try, right?”

“Right,” she exhaled her relief and squeezed his hands tighter.

“And New York isn’t the other side of the world, we can see each other on weekends,” Tito continued, trying to work things out in his head and reassure her as well as he could.

“Weekends work,” Adeline nodded, biting back a wave of tears, but her eyes watered anyway.

“Baby, please don’t,” he cupped her face with both hands and ran his thumbs over her cheeks while she wrapped her arms around him. “I know work will make it hard for you to travel, but I’ll come up as often as I can, okay?”

“Yeah,” she hid her face into his chest and took a deep breath to calm down. Nothing soothed her better than being close to him.

“We’ll make it work. I promise.” He rocked her gently from side to side in his arms. “I love you too much to ever let you go.”

“I really- I didn’t think it was possible for me to fall in love like that.” Adeline kissed over his heart, making him tighten his arms around her.

“Me neither, and I know it won’t be easy every day, but it’s all going to be worth it, yeah?” Tito tilted her face up so that their noses brushed.

“Loving you makes it all worth it.” She whispered, closing her eyes and falling for him harder with every press of his lips against hers.

.

            The first month was easy.

They had just spent so much time together that it didn’t feel like the distance would ever be an issue, Tito came up to Montreal for three days, and despite all her work Adeline managed to visit one weekend too.

            Sweet attentions helped them push through too, Adeline sent him letters with handwritten poems in them, things he inspired and she thought were worth sharing. Tito sent her flowers and so many loving good morning texts that there was no way she’d ever wake up and start her day without feeling like the luckiest woman in the world.

            Their time together was a little hectic, a mix of dates to spend quality time together and just staying in bed without letting go of each other unless it was for a few hours of sleep in between. The rhythm was tiring, no matter how close New York and Montreal were, travelling was exhausting. It meant waking up early to go to the airport and have enough time to get through security, and it also meant getting home late at the end of the trip with an early morning start right after.

            Still, they were in love and they made it work.

When Christmas came around they felt like they were pros at handling their relationship. Adeline took days off to come spend time in New York so that she could see more of Tito’s world and finally meet Mat, and he came back to Canada for Christmas with his family.

            They didn’t spend the holidays together per say, but they saw each other so often that it felt like they did anyway. Every important moment was spent together, Adeline came over to his house on Christmas morning to open gifts and have lunch with his parents, and Tito spent New Year’s Eve at a party her friends organized. They got to exchange a sickeningly sweet kiss just as the year started and whispered their promise to love each other forever.

            When hockey became a priority again and Tito had to leave, everything felt bittersweet. The moments they had together felt like they were stolen, something they had to work for because nothing fit in their lives unless they forced it to. There was never a weekend when they could both be free unless Adeline managed to figure out a way to get a break from work, and even when she had things to do, Tito still flew up to see her during the moments she had to spare over two days. His games were getting more important, and the team was already dealing with injuries, so he was having a hard time handling everything without letting anyone down.

            Their relationship was strong, but when March rolled around neither of them was truly happy.

“You’re exhausted,” Adeline pointed out something she had been noticing more and more every time he visited. Now, the dark circles under his eyes were visible even through the shitty quality of their call.

“I’m alright,” Tito lied again to stop her from worrying and gave her a weak smile. “You think you’ll be free next weekend?”

“There’s no way you’re travelling again next weekend,” she shook her head, refusing to ask him to put so much effort in again when he clearly needed the rest.

“Well can you come down?” He broke it down to what he thought was simple. If she could move, she’d come visit him. If she couldn’t, he’d come visit her.

“No, I’m stuck this month, I told you,” Adeline sighed and rubbed a hand over her face. Her internship was getting closer to its end and the prospect of a job was real, so she was being drowned in extra work so that she could prove she deserved to stay. As much as she wanted to see Tito to be able to relax in his arms, she knew his training was even more intense than what she had to do.

“Then I’m coming to you,” he insisted again, so Adeline sharpened her tone.

“The hell you are.” She gave him the glare he had received many times before. It was the one that told him ‘I love you but you’re being an idiot,’ and if things were normal, Tito would have laughed and agreed with whatever she wanted.

“So you don’t want to see me now?” He got offended instead, unable to understand why she wouldn’t want him to come. He was doing everything he could to make things work, no matter what.

“Not in that state!” She shot back, feeling tears brimming in her eyes. She was calmer as she spoke her next words. “Tito please, just get some rest… I miss you like hell all the time, but this… it’s not worth it. I’d rather see you a little less and in better shape, okay? We can facetime every night this week or something to make up for it if you want,”

“It’s not the same as holding you,” Tito’s emotions settled too, as defeated as he felt, she was right.

“I know champ, but you’ve got to take care of yourself. Get some rest, okay?”

She made him promise he’d slow down, but Tito didn’t last long. He figured that if he trained extra hard by going to the gym earlier and spent more time on the ice then he’d deserve to spend his days off with her.

Everything was going in the opposite direction of what she asked, but he couldn’t let himself rest if it meant he wouldn’t see her.

“Wake the fuck up!” Anders slammed into him on the ice and sent him stumbling a few feet away. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing,” Tito gritted his teeth, anger clear in his features.

            The captain muttered something under his breath as he skated away, hoping this would be enough to get him to concentrate until the end of the practice at least. It was the third time in a row he missed a pass to Mat, something that almost never happened. The two best friends had chemistry even on the ice, they worked well together, but Anthony was fucking everything up lately and the team wouldn’t take it for much longer.

“Alright,” Anders stood in front of him in the locker room once everyone else was gone and crossed his arms over his chest. “What’s going on?”

“It’s nothing,”

“Beau,” His captain gave him a look. “You’re a good player, but you haven’t played right in two weeks at practice. Thank fuck you’re still alright when we have games, but how long is that gonna last, uh?”

“I’m not going to let the team down.” Anthony promised, and the other man sighed.

“I know you don’t want to, so get your shit together. It’d be a waste to have you sitting on a bench during every game, especially because of some girl,” Anders made his point and watched him get offended, his voice rising as he spoke again.

“Adeline is-”

“I don’t care what Adeline is.” Anders snapped to cut him off. “Adeline is not here, and she’s not worth ruining a career over. If you don’t start showing some proper skills you won’t be playing next time there’s an important game. I need to know I can count on you to be part of the team.”

“You can count on me.” Tito’s jaw was clenched, he was angry, but now was not a good time to lash out. He knew the threat was real, and Anders was probably doing him a favor having this talk with him now rather than letting him get ripped apart by coaches.

“Then start by getting some sleep. You look like shit.” His captain concluded, dropping his arms by his side and walking out of the room, leaving Anthony alone with his thoughts.

.

            Tito tried his best to fix himself over the next week. He got a smile from Anders when things finally went right at practice, and everyone on the team felt relief when they realized they were getting their player back. Everyone thought things were fine except Mat.

            He could see past the fake smiles; he could see the hurt in his friend’s eyes when he came to hang out with the team on Saturday nights instead of flying to Montreal to be with the woman he so desperately loved. It wasn’t healthy.

            Even when Mat tried to start a conversation he got shut out, Tito wasn’t sharing much with anyone anymore. He was the shell of the player and friend he used to be, so lost in his love for Adeline that he didn’t even realize he was forgetting parts of himself.

“Adeline?” Mat eventually ended up on the phone with her, half of his brain screaming this was the stupidest thing to do and the other half saying it was the only solution. He didn’t want to get in his best friend’s business, but he at least needed to know what was going on on her end.

“Yeah, what’s up Mat?” She took a break from the chapter of the novel she was editing and pushed her chair away from her desk.

“I’m just- I’m sorry I’m calling, I know it’s fucked, but Tito isn’t talking to me and I’m wondering if you’ve heard a lot from him the past few days?”

“Yeah, he’s always texting or calling. Did you guys have a fight or something?” Adeline frowned. Not talking to Mat wasn’t normal, ever since she met Tito she’d been hearing all about his best friend and how well they got along. She also would have expected Tito to mention it to her if something happened.

“No, I mean, yeah. Sort of. He’s been playing like shit at practice, so Anders tried to knock some sense into him, and not very kindly,” Mat explained with a sigh, which only made her worry more.

“Oh. What does that have to do with you?” She asked so that she could finally connect the dots, and the response she got was not what she had expected.

“Well Anders said something about how he shouldn’t let some girl fuck up a whole career, and, uh, it was a shitty thing to say, so I tried to put it more nicely, and he didn’t like it.”

“Right,” she looked down at her lap and fiddled with the hem of her skirt. Was that how the team felt about her? Like she was some girl messing with one of their best players? And if so, wasn’t it her responsibility to make sure she didn’t interfere with his career?

“You’re not fucking up anything, it’s not what I meant,” he quickly caught himself. “But Tito’s just… he’s not himself lately. He’s pretending he’s okay but the travelling back and forth is seriously getting to him, he’s not sleeping, he’s just a mess. It’s bad for the team, and he’s my best friend, I’m worried about him,” Mat was quiet as he spoke the end of his sentence, and she was glad he couldn’t see her.

“I just… I’m not sure what I can do about that Mat,” Adeline felt the tears brimming in her eyes, because she knew.

There was only one way to fix this, and she had been avoiding it for weeks already. The day Tito left Montreal they promised each other they’d do anything to make things work, that they’d never stop trying, but was this promise more important than his health?

“Can you try to talk to him, please? Just make him rest for one weekend,” Mat brought her back to earth as he asked, as if that was all Anthony needed. It would be a start, but it was far from enough. He was already staying in New York most of the time, and it was barely helping.

“I keep telling him to stay home,” she reminded him while pressing her palms over her eyes.

“So he’s not listening to you either?” Mat’s heart deflated at that. He knew his best friend was stubborn, but he didn’t think he’d turn away every attempt you all made to get him to take care of himself.

“No… I’d come if I could, but work doesn’t really allow it right now. I’ll try to get him to stay in New York for the next two weeks, hopefully I’ll get somewhere by talking to him,” Adeline promised herself to make more efforts, to give it one more try in case that was all they needed to make things work again.

“Okay,” he fiddled with the hem of his t-shirt, hoping that by the end of those two weeks things would look a bit better.

“Are you thinking of anything else?” She prompted him after he turned quiet, and Mat sighed.

“No, you’re… you were really good for him at the start, you know?” He delved into the part he probably shouldn’t be saying out loud, but he needed her to understand how bad things were. “It made him so happy, and I know you guys are still happy together, but with the way things are right now, he’s messing himself up. Badly. It’s not your fault, I just hope you guys can find a balance that works for you both again.”

“I’ll figure it out, have a nice day Mat,” Adeline put an end to the conversation, and he rubbed his hand over his face as he sighed.

“Yeah, you too.”

.

            When Tito called her less than twenty minutes later, he couldn’t understand why she didn’t want to talk. Adeline declined his call after the second ring and told him she’d call later even though they had planned on talking to each other at that time. Her lack of texts and explanations made him overthink everything, so when Mat and a few other guys showed up to his place an hour later, he wasn’t in the mood to hang out anymore.

“I’m sure she’s fine,” Mat told him when he expressed his concern. “Just have a beer and chill out,”

“You can’t be sure she’s fine,” Tito argued as he grabbed the beer and took three long gulps.

“I talked to her for a bit today, so she’s fine. She’ll probably call you tomorrow, yeah?” Mat let the information slip because he figured it wouldn’t be that big of a deal. Adeline was bound to tell him at some point anyway.

“You talked to her?” Tito frowned, the information not sitting well with him. Mat barely knew Adeline; they hadn’t gotten many chances to hang out because Tito always hogged her attention whenever she was around.

“Uh, yeah,” Mat was suddenly more than uncomfortable. He didn’t want to lie to his friend, but with the way he was reacting he felt like he would have been much better off keeping his mouth shut.

“And now she’s not picking up my calls.” Anthony grew suspicious, and the look on Mat’s face didn’t reassure him in the least. “What the fuck did you say to her?”

“I just told her I’m worried about you, you’re not yourself lately.” He admitted, feeling like being honest was the best option.

Tito didn’t lose his cool easily, but somehow this made him angry.

“Can’t you all stop with that? I’m fine.” He replied harshly, and Mat kept his mouth shut.

He thought for a second looking at the wall ahead of him and nodding. Mat was done fighting, he had offered his help, he was there to listen, but he wasn’t going to sit and let Anthony get mad at him when he was only trying to show he cared.

“Yeah, right.” Mat got up and headed out of the room, abandoning him to his thoughts.

            Tito sighed and checked his phone to distract himself, knowing he had to get out there and apologize in a minute or two. A text from Adeline caught his attention, and his mood lifted instantly.

I’ll be in New York tomorrow

            He almost screamed right there, but he bit his lip and contained his smile instead as he typed back.

For real?? What time am I picking you up?

            He had been feeling so off, he couldn’t wait to hold her. It had been too long since he got to see her and it was hard for him to hide his excitement.

I’ll just meet you at your place

            The response Tito received made his heart deflate. Something was wrong. He always picked her up from the airport, he’d done it every single time, so why shouldn’t he do it tomorrow? Between his conversation with Mat and that, the uneasiness he had felt since the declined call only increased.

“You okay?” Brassard asked as he walked out of the kitchen.

“Sorry, I’m just not in the mood tonight,” he walked past everyone and went straight for his bedroom, closing the door and locking it so no one could come bother him.

            It wasn’t fair to shut his friends out like that, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Nothing mattered anymore, he was in a constant state of numbness when he was in New York. Playing hockey helped, the games put him in the right mindset, but as soon as he stepped off the ice his world fell apart all over again.

            Adeline was the only thing keeping him together, but she was also the reason he was being torn apart. She had watched it happen too, she saw the way it started, his sudden disinterest for anything that wasn’t hockey or her, the sadness she caused and tried to fix so hard. She thought that with more time together their time apart would be easier, but nothing she did helped Tito work it out. Their relationship had been rushed, they fell in love and their feelings for each other became an obsession, one Anthony couldn’t manage anymore.

            He was only happy when she was with him, but even then parts of himself were missing.

            Mat and the other guys left soon after he disappeared, giving up for the night and deciding they’d try to spend time with him another day. Anthony was too stubborn, there was no point in them staying. He didn’t care about what was going on that night, he couldn’t think of anything except Adeline.

            Just one night of sleep, one day of work and she’d be in his arms.

            Tito was in his head and time flew by, so when he made it home the next night he was constantly checking his phone to know where she was. She texted when she landed, so he was waiting close to the door when he knew she was about to arrive.

            The front door was open before she was even out of the elevator.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” Tito let her walk in and pulled her into a hug to take in the sweet scent of her perfume. His eyes fell shut as he finally felt his body relax. Adeline was the remedy to everything in his life, nothing felt better than having her close.

“Tito,” she pulled away a little as she spoke, trying to put some distance between them.

“Mmh?” He kept his hands on her waist, tugging her against him because he wasn’t ready to part from the hug just yet.

“Anthony, stop,” she pushed on his shoulders and took a step back. “I’m here because I need to talk to you.”

“What’s going on?” Tito frowned at the use of his full name. Deep down, he had known for days that something was coming, but now that he had to face it he didn’t feel prepared enough at all.

            A heaviness settled over the room, the usual playful and happy atmosphere of their reunions nowhere to be found.

“I don’t think we should be doing this anymore.” Adeline said, her hands linked together in front of her.

            The words hung in the air for several seconds. There was an apologetic look in her eyes as she waited for Tito to react, his expression going from shock, to panic, and to confusion all within a few seconds. He had expected her to want to talk, to ask for a break from things at worst.

This was something he had never considered.

“What?” He whispered, unable to form a word any louder than that.

“I know you don’t want to hear it, but you’re not happy like this,” she felt her heart break as he stammered to start a sentence. He looked exhausted, there were dark circles under his eyes, and now his features were twisted in pain.

“Adeline, don’t. You- you don’t know what you’re saying, I’m fine, and-” Tito struggled to say anything coherent, he spoke too fast, but he was scared that if he didn’t say anything she’d vanish.

“You’re not fine. You’re not in the right headspace to train because you’re always thinking of how to get away from New York, you’re not focusing on what should matter to you the most and you’re making yourself sick because you’re not sleeping,” Adeline shook her head, looking down to avoid crying. She couldn’t take the look in his eyes, they used to be so full of joy, but now the blue was dulled by tears that blurred his vision.

“I am sleeping,” he croaked weakly and reached for her.

“That’s not the point!” She stepped back to dodge his touch. She wasn’t strong enough to fight him on this for long, he held too much power over her, she’d cave in no time if she let him touch her. “This was never the point. You were right, not everyone can do long distance and we couldn’t know unless we tried. Now we know, it’s not working out.” She swallowed back her sob and took a shaky breath in to calm down.

“Adeline, please,” Tito shook his head, teardrops rolling down his cheeks already. “No, please,” he didn’t know what else to do but beg.

“I’m sorry,” she looked up. As hard as it was, he deserved at least that, but the broken look in his eyes made her fall apart.

“No! You’re the love of my life, I can’t just let you go,” he refused to go down without a fight, not when she was the only woman he had ever loved. He saw his entire life with her, they could have everything together, and he couldn’t let it go so easily.

“You have to. I’m asking you to.” Adeline wiped her thumbs underneath her eyes to catch her tears. She knew he’d respect her decision, no matter how much he hated it, because he always respected boundaries. She just had to tell him she didn’t want him anymore, and that was the hardest part, having to lie to protect him. “This isn’t healthy for you, and frankly, it’s not healthy for me either. I’m always on my phone, I can barely focus on work because I’m wondering when you’ll be free to call, I’m going to sleep so fucking late every time we call and I just… I just can’t keep doing this any longer knowing it’s hurting you.” She explained, and he used that time to settle his breathing.

“We can work through a rough patch,” his voice was a little raspy, but he pushed through. “I’ll… I’ll stay in New York for longer periods, and we can schedule calls so that it’s not as messy,” Tito brought up every solution he could think of, but she already knew they were pointless.

“You’re making this so hard,” Adeline sniffled quietly, glancing down at her feet again. “I’m sorry, but I’m not changing my mind.”

“So that’s just… it?” He felt like he’d just received a punch to the stomach. Adeline looked up as he took a step back, shaking his head a little and looking completely lost.

“I guess,” she whispered, her lower lip trembling.

“I’m in love with you, isn’t that worth trying a little bit harder?” Tito couldn’t believe the feelings settling inside his chest. He was slowly processing every word she had said, and there were so many things wrong with this conversation. What happened to their promise?

“You think I haven’t tried hard enough? You think I haven’t tried my fucking hardest?” Adeline let the tears flow down her cheeks, and her chest shook with a sob, but she fought to keep her voice steady.

“Well you’re the one giving up now!” He clenched his jaw, sniffling loudly and tugging at his hair in despair. The hurt had kicked in, and he was angry now.

“Because you’re not okay! And I had to find out from your best friend because you keep lying to me and you’re not taking care of yourself!” She raised her voice to his level, and he scoffed, pacing around his living room.

“Mat doesn’t fucking know what I’m doing, if I’m saying I can handle it, then I can handle it!” Tito was sick of everyone around him telling him how to feel and what to do. Focus, train harder, take a break, sleep, travel, don’t travel, call me, don’t call me, spend time with friends, call your family. It was all too much, and he just couldn’t take it anymore.

“Mat just asked me to check up on you, and he was right, you’re not fine, and I’m the reason you keep getting worse. I just can’t do this anymore,” Adeline’s voice softened to hide the way it cracked halfway through, but he caught it anyway.

“Fucking great.” He bit his cheek to stop himself from breaking down. Watching her like this, the woman he loved more than anything in the world, was destroying him. She felt the pain too, and he was causing it.

“You’re angry, and I get it,” Adeline took a deep breath in and dropped her hands by her sides, wondering when he’d snap. She was the one giving up, so she was ready to take it. “I’m so sorry, this isn’t how I pictured things going between us... I’ll just go… I’m really sorry.” She turned around, ready to walk out so that she could break down somewhere he wouldn’t see her.

            It was better if he was mad at her, his anger was much easier to handle than the look he first gave her.

“Adeline wait,” Tito crossed the room in two long strides and wrapped his hand around her arm before she could reach the door.

“What are you-” Adeline turned around to face him and he released her arm to hold her waist instead.

“Just one more.” He murmured with his lips so close to hers she could already feel how soft they were through a brush. “Please, just one last night,”

            He kissed her to stop her from replying, to stop her from thinking rationally, and to fucking beg her to give him this last thing. Adeline wasn’t strong enough to pull away. Instead, she melted into his touch and responded to the kiss with a passion fueled by her heart falling into pieces.

            Just one last time, she told herself as she kept on kissing him, blindly letting him walk back to his bedroom.

            They could taste the saltiness of their tears as they moved their lips together, tangled in each other with her straddling him and her legs around his waist, just like they had been the first night they were together like that. They didn’t exchange any words, kissing and hiding their faces whenever they had to so that they wouldn’t see the other breaking inside.

It was all too much and not enough, so when Tito kept her tight against his chest to lay in bed, Adeline didn’t fight him. She closed her eyes and bit back tears, pretending she wasn’t about to leave so that he would let himself fall asleep.

Tito was safe with her so close, his grip was tight, he wasn’t ever letting her go. It was what he told himself as he drifted off to sleep, telling himself they’d talk in the morning, that he’d find a way to convince her they could still fix things.

.

            Adeline felt like her heart was being torn apart when she crawled out of his arms in the early hours of the morning. She hadn’t slept for a second, but she couldn’t bring herself to get up. For a moment, she even thought she should stay. What if Tito was right? What if he could stay in New York for more time? They could schedule the calls like he said to make things easier.

The idea disappeared from her mind with every moment she spent looking at him, fast asleep in his bed when he used to always wake up whenever she moved. There were dark circles under his eyes, he was exhausted, and she was only making it worse. Leaving was the only way.

Adeline grabbed as much of her things as she could carry and got dressed in the living room as quietly as possible, but with how hard she was crying she was surprised none of her sobs had woken Tito up yet. A few of her things were still in his room, but it was nothing she desperately needed back, and if she woke him up she’d never be able to leave. Still, she couldn’t stop herself from going into his bedroom to look at him one more time.

He was so beautiful when he slept, so peaceful and relaxed. Adeline wished she could see him smile one more time, just to be able to admire the spark in his eyes whenever he did. She knew that if he woke up they’d only be filled with sadness and fear, all because of her, so she took a deep breath and scribbled one last thing on a post it note, placing it on her pillow before leaving his apartment silently.

.

            An hour later the sun was up, and Tito was shaking as he woke up. He sat up immediately to grab the cold bed sheets on her side of the bed. It all felt like a nightmare. The bedroom was silent apart from his heavy breathing, and he turned his light on before looking around for any sign she was still here.

            After they held each other so tightly during the night, the way they loved each other, how could she have left? Tears stung in his eyes as he took notice of everything in his room. Her clothes were gone from the floor, her notebook wasn’t on the nightstand, and he could see his closet cracked open with two empty shelves. Her shelves.

            Tito’s heart tightened in his chest as the reality of the situation hit him. His body was tense but he couldn’t move. His whole world was falling apart, he was completely lost, scrambling for something, anything he could hold onto.

He found it in a single blue post-it note on his pillow, her pretty cursive handwriting recognizable easily.

I’m sorry,

A

.

Please reblog and let me know what you thought!! Writing is a lot of time and effort, I appreciate all comments, asks and reblogs more than you know <3

[khaotic-kitsunes]

Royal Summons

Ah yes, I don’t remember writing this at all, of course I did write it but I just don’t remember it. Which makes reading it fantastic because, well fuck, I had no idea what it was!

Cheeky Kitsune 🦊💋

 You gulped nervously as you approached the rather large, wooden door that lead to your King’s private chambers; Taishiro Toyomitsu, one of the most feared demons around and, coincidentally, the demon that had summoned you to his bedroom.

 Why? God how you wished you knew that. Knowing why he wanted to see you might ease some of the stress you were currently experiencing, though it didn’t help before that you had never formally met the demon before; no, you were simply a maid in his castle.

 He had not been the one to hire you.

   “Is there a reason you aren’t knocking on the door?”

   You jolted as the door in front of you opened to reveal your king, towering over you to the point where you had to tilt your head just to catch a glimpse of his face; you felt unbelievably tiny when you realised he was leaning down to get a look at you.

 Your king was supposed to be a demon, not a giant.

 “I…I’m sorry, My Lord” You paused, averting your gaze before you could mistakenly make eye-contact, instead deciding that the floor was wonderfully decorated and perfect to stare at while you bowed.

 “Looks like you’re nervous, you don’t need to be” His warm, light-hearted chuckle relaxed you more than you could ever hope to describe; you weren’t sure why he was treating you so kindly but it beat the terrifying stories you had heard about the King of the land.

 “I’d offer you the promise that I won’t bite…but, well, I can’t promise that” His words came out in a deep rumble, the sound sending shivers down your spine as his thin tail moved around your waist, the bright flame on the end of it burning through your on-duty clothing while he pulled you into the room with the appendage; closing the door solidly once you were inside.

 “M-My Lord!” You let out a squeal, patting against the flames that had begun to envelope your clothes, somehow leaving your skin unburnt while his tail quickly flicked away from your frantic figure.

 “Oh! I’m sorry, sometimes I forget that the clothes for the maids aren’t, quite fireproof” He apologised as his hand moved to press down against the flames, causing them to vanish without another trace; your clothes completely repaired once he removed his hand from your body. The perks of being a demon, you supposed.

 “It’s okay, My Lord…I just hadn’t expected…that…” You trailed off, not quite certain how to describe what had just happened, while it was true you hadn’t expected it; you also weren’t sure you fully understood it.

 “Do you know why I wanted to see you?” He questioned, moving to stand behind you while his hands settled on your shoulders, causing you to jolt and turn your head to look at him; a large squeal escaping you when you came face to face with the Demon King.

 “Well?” His lips tugged up into a smile as he spoke, molten gold gaze staring through to your soul while your head shook numbly; you truly had no clue why you were here but you were starting to regret your decision to actually show up.

 His kindness was feeling less relieving and more startling with each moment that passed, demons weren’t known to be kind, especially not a demon king.

 “Because I crave you” His explanation was simply enough, yet it left your head spinning, not sure if you had heard him correctly; you could have sworn he had just said he craved you, the strongest demon in all the land, craved you, a human maid.

 It was preposterous.

   “Ah, there, there must be some mistake, My Lord”

   His grip on your shoulders tightened ever-so-slightly as he leaned forwards, lips ghosting over yours as he spoke; stealing away your breath without even kissing you.

 “No mistake, (Name).” The words were so simply, no lie reflected in his gaze as his lips finally merged with your own, his hands turning your body to his and giving you the opportunity to pull away if you so desired; though the opportunity disappeared the moment you melted into him.

 The growl that filled the room had you shuddering, pushing yourself into his embrace more as he greedily devoured your lips with his own, hot tongue eagerly exploring your mouth until you were left with no choice but to pull away; chest heaving from the lack of oxygen that you needed to live.

 “I’ve seen you around” He paused, dipping his head to bite along your neck firmly, trailing kisses along the harsh marks he left behind, his tongue a welcome relief to the stinging pain as your head lulled to the side; allowing him to do as he pleased to you.

 “You work hard, you’re kind…somehow you’ve earnt the respect of my guards and non-human staff…” You could feel his lips stretch into a grin against the sensitive skin of your neck as he spoke, causing you to grip onto his arms, wanting to keep yourself steady.

 “I like that and I want you” His voice mixed in with a deep, animalistic growl while his hands grabbed at your clothes, giving a firm tug before his lips crashed down against your own once more; this kiss more demanding than the last.

 “So, speak up, (Name). You could still walk out of here, this won’t affect anything outside of this room if you deny me” He pulled his head back, his tail curling around your thigh while he began to trail kisses along the tender skin of your neck; awaiting your choice.

 “Indulge me, allow me to show you what it’s like to experience true pleasure if you think you can handle it and I promise you, I will treat you like my Queen” His voice was quiet, alarmingly so as his kisses slowed to a stop, golden gaze focused on you intently while you squirmed within his hold; the choice eating away at you.

 There was so much wrong with this situation morally, when you imagined being with someone like this, it was through developing a relationship first; but this was not what you imagined. This was entirely different, the king was offering you something he offered no other, you were given the chance to go about your day or to give in to him and experience things that you were positive were well beyond your wildest fantasies.

 The choice probably should have been harder than it was, but then again, you were always the one to do anything for anyone and everyone else. It couldn’t possibly hurt to make a rash decision this once, to enjoy yourself and forget about your regular problems; even if it was just for a short time.

   “Alright, My King…I’ll indulge you”

   Your clothes were gone in the next second, his as well you couldn’t help but notice, an embarrassed squeal slipping past your ravaged lips when he lifted you up against his hips; his thick, throbbing erection rubbing up against your smaller body.

 The size difference was suddenly the only thing on your mind while he rubbed against you, large hands and strong embrace more than enough to keep you up against him comfortably as he made his way towards the custom-made bed.

 You were almost tempted to back out, almost.

   “Relax, I can feel your unease”

   Before you could respond, he had laid you back on his bed, his lips moving against your own in a much slower kiss; distracting you long enough so that you didn’t notice his wandering hand until one of his fingers was pushing inside of you, making you gasp out into the kiss.

 “You didn’t really think I would fuck you straight away, did you? Humans are so delicate, if I don’t prep you…it won’t be enjoyable for either of us” His words were muffled against your lips and yet you could understand him clearly enough, your body relaxing beneath his and enjoying his slow ministrations to the fullest.

 It wasn’t long before he had another finger inside of you, stretching you while his thumb rubbed over your clit in slow, firm circles; pulling quiet moans and soft whines from you effortlessly, the quiet noises music to his fluffy, pointed ears.

 “That’s it…better now, isn’t it? You’re nice and relaxed” He removed his fingers slowly, moving them to his mouth and running his tongue along the soaked digits, groaning low at the taste of you; the action leaving you more than a little embarrassed. Though you couldn’t deny how it turned you on, to see the king enjoying you to such extent.

 “Now comes the part I’ve been waiting for…” He trailed off as he lifted your hips off the bed, positioning his larger form between your wonderfully thick thighs before pressing his aching cock up against your drenched folds, rubbing slowly until you relaxed beneath him once more, having subconsciously gone tense out of instinct.

 “Last chance” He warned, leaning down until his forehead was against your own, a wicked grin spreading over his lips; the sight making you bite your lip, all thoughts of backing out now buried deep in the back of your mind.

 “…Are you trying to get me to back out? Don’t tell me the demon king isn’t confident that he can’t please a mere human such as myself?” You regretted your words as soon as they slipped past your lips, his eyes narrowing at the challenge laid plain in your foolishly uttered question.

 He remained silent, snapping his hips forwards harshly and pushing himself inside of you, groaning at the way you struggled to take all of him; the tight fit enough to make him cum right then and there, hot sticky seed filling you before things had even gotten started.

   “Ah…did…”

   You stared up at him with wide eyes while he panted above you, slowly sitting back while removing himself from your warmth, his grin never fading. Though it really should have, at that point.

 “Couldn’t help it…but don’t worry” He paused, moving his hands from your hips down to the mattress below you, eyes shining with unknown intent, spurring you to wrap your arms around his neck, holding him close enough for you to use him to steady yourself.

 “I’m only just getting started” Cries of pleasure followed his over-confident words, his hips moving with unnatural strength, constantly filling you with every inch he had to offer; his cum acting as an even better lubrication as it mixed with your own bodily fluids.

 His relentless thrusts didn’t ease up, no matter how much you whimpered out pleas for him to consider your human limits, or the way your nails bit into the muscles that you so desperately clung onto; instead, your actions encouraged him to push himself.

 With each cry of pleasure that left you, he laughed. Heartily. However, Taishiro wasn’t laughing at you, instead, he was overjoyed with how well you were handling his needs; despite the way you cried out that you couldn’t take it, that you would break if he continued, your body held up.

 You continued to take everything he had to offer, whether it was a slap to your arse, his sharp teeth teasing your sensitive nipples or the too-warm flame licking at your skin dangerously with each sway of the appendage. You were beautiful in his eyes, better than an unfeeling demoness and sturdier than any human he had met so far.

 “You’re starting to squeeze down on me, guess that means your close, huh?” He trailed kisses over your jaw as he spoke, low groans mixed amongst his words as his own orgasm approached hastily; though he would never admit it, your body was a little too compatible with his. He found himself losing control in ways he hadn’t before now.

 “Oh yeah, reminds me” He paused, moving his hand to tangle it into your hair, tugging until you allowed your head to move as he wanted it, letting him stare deep into your eyes once more; an act you had been trying to avoid since he started fucking you so intensely.

   “Make sure you scream out my name. Not that ‘my king’ crap. I want to hear you scream out my name for the entire castle to hear!”

   That was it, not a second later and you were screaming out loudly, his name the only thing on your lips while your body spasmed, walls clamping down around his throbbing cock until he was pushed over the edge, releasing yet another load of his thick cum inside of you; causing him to buck his hips uncontrollably, a little too much of his strength behind the thrusts judging from the way your eyes rolled into the back of your head.

 The pleasure was just too much and your mind had gone blank mid-orgasm, the demon king had kept his promise and there was no way you would ever come to regret agreeing to his advances.

   “Damn…I nearly broke you huh? That’s okay, that’s okay, rest up”

   He removed himself from you carefully as he muttered to himself, making sure you were covered by at least one of the thin sheets that decorated his bed before moving to get something to clean the both of you up.

 “She’s only human after all, gonna need to build her up until she can take more than one round at a time” Taishiro chuckled quietly to himself as he went about his task, more than a little pleased with himself. You really had taken him well and now he could try out more things with you, since he knew you could handle a standard fuck, now he wanted to know if you could take more of his desires.

 He knew it would be a slow process, given how exhausted you seemed just by taking him as you had; but a process that would be worth it all the same.

[drethanramslay]

A funny thing called Fate- Prologue

Pairing: Bryce X MC (Aisha Khurrana)

Word Count: 2.8K words

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Warning: None really, just a little cursing

Author’s note: I had been listening to Strawberries and Cigarettes by Troye Sivan and that is actually the primary spark which led me to come up with this series. Shout out to @mvalentine and @anotherbeingsworld fo letting me bounce my crazy ideas <3

AHHH so it is finally here!! This is my first time writing Bryce so I hope I can do justice to this beautiful man. This starts with Aisha’s (MC) POV and like I said, there will be a time jump. It would be first person when I’m writing in the past and then it will shift to third person when I’m writing the present. I think i should stop my rambling and let’s go!!

Terms you need to know-

-Bhaiya: Brother in hindi

-Beta: Technically it means ‘son’ but in most Indian families its used like a term of endearment too

- AIIMS, Delhi: Stands for All India Institute of Medical Sciences. This is one of the best medical schools in the country and Only 100 people out of 200,000(or more) get in. So it is very cut throat.

10 years ago- Aisha's PoV 

(Age: 16)

I am done.

Done with all the drama, done with all the lies, done with all the manipulations and done with all the heartache.

And most of all, I was done with him- the infamous Bryce Lahela. 

The boy with the stupid long hair, the stupid signature smirk and the stupid charm. Those amber eyes which reminded you of the sand and sea and those lips on which an everlasting smile played used to be like a breath of fresh air. I always thought that he was so unique, but boy was I wrong. 

All boys are the same.

I really thought that jocks like him would be different huh? Can someone just hand me my clown shoes?

But luckily, I don't have to see his face ever again because for once, instead of making a mockery of my existence, life decided to give me something that I really wanted badly.

A chance to leave all of this in my past. A chance to start over again.

My dad had a better business opportunity back in Mumbai. I am an Indian and we lived in Delhi since the time I was born but we shifted to Mauii when I was in the ninth grade because of how demanding dad's job was getting

Bhaiya chose to stay back in Delhi because his engineering college was there and he enjoyed the hostel life way too much. And he had finally managed to get out of our toxic household so I really could not blame him.

So yeah.. that is how I ended up in Maui in the first place.

It was okay in ninth grade. I kept to myself and blended in with the shadows (because hello social anxiety!). But... Tenth grade changed everything.

It was one of the best and worst year of my life and I often wonder if I could ever get over this.

I am definitely sounding like one of those over-dramatic Indian soap operas my mom watches every night.

"Aisha? Are you ready? The car is here beta."

"Yes, Mama. I am coming!! Just packing up some stuff."

Breaking out of my reverie, I stuffed in my phone and other essentials into my carry bag. As I was zipping up my luggage, I yanked open my closet door to see if I left anything behind my eyes landed on the shoebox I had stuffed in the back of my closet.

I gulped and I felt tears well up in my eyes again. A part of me wanted to take it for it had all the trinkets of the good things in my relationship with Bryce but, another part of me knew that if I took it with me, I would never be able to move on and that would completely defeat the purpose of this fresh start I have been looking forward to.

So with a heavy heart, I looked away and shut the door of the closet, picked up my luggage and left.

As the Uber pulled out of the curb I stared out of the window, to look at the beaches I had come to love and hate.

I liked Maui, I really did but all that it was reduced was a place where I was humiliated and belittled.

And it was all his fault.

PRESENT

(Age: 27)

"Oh my god. I'm gonna late!!" Aisha screeched as she saw the time on her phone. She shoved the duvet off her and jumped out of bed. She tried running to the bathroom in her small closet-sized apartment but it just ended up with her stubbing her toe against the coffee table.

"Ow ow ow." She cursed as she hobbled into the washroom and got on with her daily chores. Her hand-eye coordination was already awful and add that she was sleep deprived just made the entire thing worse. Stumbling, tripping, cursing she managed to brush her teeth and hop into the shower. The burst of cold water managed to wake her up as she furiously washed.

Why did I have to move into a room under a busy staircase?! This is why bhaiya says- Do your research. She angrily thought to herself as she wiped herself rigorously and zipped open her suitcase, searching for her semi-formal clothes.

Grabbing a granola bar and her trusty thermos of coffee, she was on her way to Edenbrook.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

As she entered the atrium, she was in complete awe. It looked big and majestic on the outside, with a clever mix of brick walls and the glass facade, making it look welcoming. Sunshine poured through the atrium as the various doctors and nurses worked around her, not giving mind to the clueless intern gawking.

"Hi, I'm Dr Ines Delarosa, a senior resident!! You look lost. Let me guess... the first day of residency?" A short woman in a doctor's coat walked up to her breaking Aisha from her awe, her aura full of happiness, rainbows and unicorns which made Aisha a little vary.

Is it normal to be this happy and energetic?

Aisha nodded hesitantly and the resident smiled a hundred-watt smile. "Great. You are gonna need a photo ID. Follow me, I will get you all set up." Wordlessly Aisha followed Ines, slinging her messenger bag over her shoulder, nervously playing with the strap.

It is going to be fine... Aisha breathed out as she entered a room with a white background and a camera before it. "Just step over here, in front of the camera and smile."

And waste my energy? No thanks.

She schooled her features to be as professional as she could and the flash of the camera went off. Aisha walked over the tangled wires and peeked at the screen. A serious face stared back at her, the lighting doing good to her brown skin. Her nose piercing caught light and her dark mahogany hair was tied up in a neat ponytail.

"Is it okay? Or do I need to retake the photo?"

"No, it is great! I like it. Thank you."

"Well I will just stick this on your ID.... and you are good to go!! I wish I looked that good in my ID." She said and cheerfully and once her eyes fell on the title a smile made its way on her face,

Dr Aisha Khurrana... It is real and it is true.

"My first day as a real doctor." she whistled lowly shaking her head as if she didn't believe it.

"I was in your shoes last year. Believe me, med school was nothing compared to this. Your three years of residency will be the toughest, most amazing year of your life!! But the first year as an intern will be the craziest of all."

As soon as the smile had graced her features, it slipped away and she nodded seriously. "I think I am ready for it. I have been dreaming and slogging my ass so that I could work in Edenbrook. Ever since I learnt that Ethan Ramsey worked here. His research basically pushed me to apply for med school."

Also, the fact that my parents can like shut up about me being worthless.

"That is great. I will just walk you to the locker room so that you can change into scrubs." Ines offered and Aisha gave her a small smile.

"So... Any advice?"

"Make friends..."

And I am out. She thought to herself. She always struggled with making friends and that is partly the reason why she would keep to herself all the time. Sure she did make a few gem of a friends in med school but if she had to choose between mingling with strangers and drowning, you know what she would choose.

"... with your interns, year senior residents, even your patients! Friends will get you through anything. And, uh, try to not annoy the Attendings! You do not want to get on your boss's bad side."

"Noted."

After changing she was just passing through the waiting room so that she could get to the orientation when she heard gasps from the seating area. A woman had collapsed on her seat and the people were crowding around her.

Her instincts kicked in and she ordered. "Give her space. Everybody step back! I'm a doctor."

She hurried over to the woman just as another doctor rushes in. He kneeled at her side and checked her pulse. "Pulse is weak. She's unresponsive." He looked up and his eyes landed on her.

"You Rookie. Get here."

"Right away doctor. Coming!" Aisha hurried over as the doctor lifted the fainted woman on to the nearby gurney.

"What was she coming in for? Did she fill out a form yet?"

"No, she'd just walked in."

The doctor's piercing blue eyes landed on her which made her straighten her back. "If we don't figure out what's wrong with her fast, she's going to die on this table. Rookie, check B.P."

Wrapping the blood pressure cuff around the unconscious woman's arm and she pumped the bulb, peering at the numbers.

"It's plummeting. She's hypotensive. We've gotta get fluids in her."

Aisha's eyes wandered over the woman's form, trying to search for more clues. Her eyes landed on the rapidly forming bruise on her elbow.

"Doctor... Look at this bruise. I think it's a sign that she is a haemophiliac."

The doctor replied in a gruff voice. "You think or you know?"

"I know."

"Good. Also can you see the way her fingertips are turning blue? It is a sign of low oxygen saturation in the blood. Take a closer listen to her lungs. Hurry."

She nodded assertively and slipped the resonator of the stethoscope over the ribs, straining to hear the diminishing whooshing of the lungs which made Aisha gulp in fear.

"Can't hear anything on the left side and the right side is struggling. She is going to suffocate at this rate." She spoke up , her voice struggling to stay calm but as she glanced at the older doctor, he seemed to be as cool as a cucumber.

"Nurse we have got a code blue." His authoritative voice boomed over as the nurses bustled around the gurney.

Taking the bag mask from the nurse, he secured it around the patient's mouth and gently pump air into her lungs.

"What do we do, Doctor? What's happening to her?" She asked as she noticed the reducing breath rate.

He looked up. "Consider all the clues. It's all there. You know this, Rookie."

Aisha closed her eyes and took a deep breath, realigning her focus, delving deep into her mind, analyzing the clues.

Hemophilia... low blood oxygen... no lung expansion on one side...

Her brown eyes snapped open as it struck her. "It's a haemothorax!"

A twinkle of approval flickered in the ocean eyes, which vanished as soon as it came. "Precisely. A blood vessel ruptured and is filling her pleural cavity..."

"... Blocking her lungs from expanding! That's why she can't breathe." Aisha completed the sentence.

Fuck.

"But we can't repair the blood vessel over here."

The older doctor's jaw clenched. "Then we will have to do a emergency thoracotomy to drain the cavity instead. Nurse!"

The nurse hustles around handing her a scalpel and a chest tube, her eyes widening in shock.

She gulped, her nervousness spiking as she sees the doctor lift the shirt of the patient, exposing the side of her rib cage.

"We need a local anaesthetic-"

The doctor interrupted her. "We're out of time and she is already unconscious. Do it now, or the woman's life is on you!!"

She gritted her teeth with determination. I am not loosing a patient on my first day.

She took a deep breath in an attempt to calm herself. It is just like anatomy class only... this isn't a cadaver but a real person.

But that statement, instead of calming her, it just caused the scalpel to shake in her hand.

The doctor reaches and encompasses her hand. "Hey... You can do this."

Aisha nods stabilizing herself and focusing solely on the older doctor's voice, before she looked down.

"There you go... Nice and easy."

Incision at the fifth intercostal space... anterior.. to the mid axillary line...

And when she was confident enough, she made the perfect incision, a trickle of red following the path of the scalpel.

"Now the tube."

She took and pushed it into the incision and with a spurt, blood started draining out of the chest cavity resulting in the patient to take a deep breath.

Holy shit I did that. I freaking did that.

In the daze of endorphins, she heard the doctor order her surgery, the nurses wheeling the gurney and the onlookers applauding.

She turned towards the attending, excitement pouring out of her in waves. "Doctor.. that was absolutely amazing!!"

It's was as if a switch flipped and the grumpier and sarcastic facade took place. "You're right. It is pretty amazing you didn't get her killed."

Aisha's jaw dropped.

"Wait, what?"

The doctor rambled off, pointing out her mistakes. "Your examination was slow and superficial. Your scalpel technique, amateur at best."

It took all her might to not scoff. 

Excuse me I graduated from AIIMS Delhi, thank you very much.

 Swallowing the dying need to go off she spoke in a professional tone. "Amateur? I'm sorry, doctor but it is my first day."

"Well, that is not an excuse you can use because if that patient would have died, the blood would have been on your hands..." He lifted the badge attached to her breast pocket scrutinizing on the surname.

"... Khurrana."

He tossed the id back to her, turned on his heels and walked away, leaving a steaming Aisha in her place.

"What a dick." She muttered under her breath.

"Yeah and I'm totally in love with him." A nurse appeared magically out of thin air near her, causing her to jump in surprise.

The kind eyed nurse just rolled his eyes and placed a hand on her shoulder which had Aisha bristling. "Don't worry about it, Dr Ramsey is like that to everybody."

Aisha's jaw dropped for the second time. "Wait... Dr. Ramsey as in Dr. Ethan Ramsey?!"

Shooting a knowing glance, he spoke up. "I take it, you're a fan?"

"He's only my medical hero and greatest inspiration. I've read all his research!" Aisha rushed off, horror and excitement rushing through her.

Oh my god I managed to piss of my one medical hero.. I'm such a dumbass.

Noticing the horror of her expression he gave a gentle smile. "On the bright side, you'll get plenty more chances to impress him."

She sighed and looked down to see that her scrubs were stained with blood.

First impression is last impression beta, always remember that. Her father's voice resonated in her mind.

"Dammit, I'm here for five minutes and I'm already a mess. I can't show up to orientation like this!"

"Don't sweat it. There are extras in the locker room. Come I will show you the way..."

She walked into the locker room, looking for her assigned locker. There was a crowd of half naked interns and after mumbling a couple of 'excuse me's', and rubbing shoulders (literally) she made it the end of the room.

As she turned she knocked into another woman in nothing but her undergarments.

"Uh...um.. okay then." Aisha stuttered as she felt the back of her neck heating up.

Thanks to my brown skin no one can see me getting flustered.

"What? See something you like?" She asked cheekily in an Indian accent which eased Aisha up a bit.

"Ha, you wish."

"Aren't you cute?" The woman snickered as she reached for her pants.

"That's what people say, so it must be true."

She reached for her full sleeve shirt before looking Aisha's way. "Desi?"

Aisha snorted. "Obviously. And I'm guessing you too."

"Of course. And I'm guessing that you are definitely not wearing those scrubs."

"What? Didn't you hear? Bloody clothes are like the new trend around here."

There was a moment of silence before both of them started laughing.

"It's good to meet someone from home." Aisha spoke as she pulled her scrub shirt off.

"Woah, woah, woah. Don't count on that yet. I need to see if you are gonna get in my way in this competition."

Aisha smirked as she shut her locker. "Can't say I'm surprised. Can't be desi if the sense of competition isn't ingrained in your DNA."

"Oh my god never thought that I would see Jackie's twin." A familiar manly voice wafted over to them.

Wait a second...

"Shut up scalpel jockey, this is our kind of bonding."

"Oh please, don't scare the newbie aw- oh."

Oh.

She was standing right in front of him. Face to face. The playful amber eyes, with flecks of brown hadn't changed. The long shoulder length hair had been cut and styled to be short and messy.

There was no trace of the surfer boy she met in Maui. He was a man through and through but still, the youth in his eyes poured out in waves, reminding her of the sandy beaches.

But right now those amber eyes were wide with shock.

It's not everyday that you meet your ex of ten years in the locker room of your new job.

"Aisha?"

".... Bryce?!"

HEHEHEH AWKWAARRDDD

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[hoodoo12]

Associates with Benefits

Secret Santa on our discord server matched me with the fabulous @strange-n-unbluusual, which made me giddy.

NSFW. That’s all I’m gonna say.

Enjoy! `

“You? What’re you doing here?!”

Out of anyone, anywhere in the Nether- or upper world, Beetlejuice never thought he’d lay eyes on him again. 

“I’d ask the same of you, but I’m fairly sure I know the answer.”

From his seat on the trunk by the window, the specter scoffed and shook his head, although he didn’t take his eyes off the other man. 

“Jesus. You still scamming people? Life coach or crystal whisperer or whatever? Or are you back to trying to get your sex cult up and running again?” Otho--he never took the time to legally change his name, but like he told his clients, “if you believed in something enough, it can become your reality”--matched the scoff and straightened to an imposing height. He always was taller. “The sex cult only worked with your help,” he admitted begrudgingly, “and you know it, Beetlejuice.” A quick flash of pink rippled through the specter’s hair and he shivered. He couldn’t disguise either semi-pleased reaction to his name spoken aloud. More importantly, did he want to?

“So what’s the con this time, big guy?”

Otho rolled his eyes and opened his jacket enough to find a silver cigarette case tucked into the inside pocket. He took his time extracting a cigarette, paused, then offered one to the house’s uninvited guest he’d found in the attic. Beetlejuice took it, lit it with a flame that originated on his fingertip, and gestured Otho closer. 

The man agreed without a word, but instead of using flame to light his smoke, Beetlejuice leaned in close enough for the tips to meet. Amber eyes held more the humanly brown, and Otho sucked slightly on the cigarette between his lips to light it. Only once it caught did Beetlejuice move back. 

“I was hired to cleanse this house of some distinctive poltergeist activity,” he finally answered. Beetlejuice grinned. True to form, Otho never used the word ‘con.’ The man may be a shyster, but he was full of himself. Beetlejuice could respect that, being a confident hustler himself. 

“That wasn’t me.”

Otho lifted an eyebrow. “Oh no?” 

“Shit no. Moving chairs around? Knocking on walls? That’s haunting 101. Baby ghost antics, like that pansy white bread couple, what’s their name--”

“You know their names. The Maitlands.”

When he wasn’t overwhelmed by a demon raging beyond reason, Otho never hesitated to call him out. “Right. The Maitlands. How’re they doing? And the rest of the Scooby gang?” He took in a lungful of smoke then dropped his gaze as if he was suddenly very interested in the cigarette, examining it as if trying to read the brand on the paper in the pale moonlight filtering through the attic window. 

“I wouldn’t know. Someone strapped me to a Wheel of Death and kicked me into some weird limbo where I had to claw my way back to the upper world. I ended up in Iowa, for christ’s sake!”

Beetlejuice chuckled, but choked it back when he saw the angry expression on the other’s face. “Hey man, I’m sorry about that. I didn’t know you were going to end up in the midwest! I was angry, and you know that sometimes things get a little out of control when I’m angry.”

Otho gave him a dead-eyed stare in response. Taking a second to center himself, he decided to follow the advice from that one movie and let it go. He wished he could’ve laid claim to that phrase without sounding like he was parrotting a kid’s movie; it was a good one: simple and seemingly easy to follow. 

More calmly, he returned to an earlier part of the conversation. “So I have no clue how any of them are getting on. You spent more time with them, why don’t you tell me?” Automatically Beetlejuice’s free hand went to the center of his chest. It was a habit that he found hard to break, running his fingers over the knobby scar he’d gotten as a reminder of the whole bungled situation. It still physically pained him, and could be felt even through a layer of clothing. It still emotionally pained him, that betrayal that he didn’t want to admit he deserved. 

“I don’t know either,” he whispered, and yanked his hand away from his chest. 

The two of them stood in silence for a moment. Smoke drifted upwards in curlicues, looking bright white in the moonlight. 

Otho hadn’t missed the involuntary movements and cleared his throat quietly. “I heard she hurt you.” “Everybody hurts me.” He meant it say it snappy and full of wrath, but it came out weak.

The man’s reply was just as soft, and just was wounded. “I never did.” 

Beetlejuice looked up again. Otho held his lit cigarette at his side and was watching him with an unreadable expression. He tried to dredge up some righteous indignation. “You were going to put me in a soul box!”

“The soul box you gave me?” Otho replied drily. “The one that was particle board painted with some fancy iridescent paint you brought over from the Netherworld to look impressive? That soul box?”

He had no reply to that.

“Damn it. Beej--we almost had them! If we’d just stuck to the plan, it would have been free and clear, but--” “But it was my fault, is that what you were going to say?! That once again I screwed the pooch, just like so many other times in my fucking existence?!” “--but the girl threw a wretch in the works,” Otho continued firmly. 

Beetlejuice both hated and loved that Otho was rarely rattled by his outbursts. 

“She offered something you couldn’t pass up. I get it.” He wanted to stay angry at the man. At least he could feel anger; it was one of the strongest emotions, but it always burnt itself out and left him exhausted and remorseful. Suddenly he just couldn’t hold onto the rage. He dropped his head.

The floorboards creaked and the man’s cologne washed over him. Blenheim Bouquet. The light spicy floral scent always seemed too gossamery for a man, but wasn’t the faint aroma of roses that followed him occasionally out of place as well? The cologne was so synonymous with Otho the specter couldn’t imagine him without it. 

With his face still turned down, he watched a hand carefully curl into his striped lapel. “I don’t blame you, Beej,” Otho said quietly. He didn’t need to. He blamed himself. After a beat with no reply, Otho continued, even more quietly. “I’ve missed you.”

“I missed you too,” Beetlejuice admitted in such a whisper his voice would have been lost if they weren’t in a silent attic.

In a fluid movement Otho dropped his cigarette to the wooden floor and brought that hand to the specter’s jaw., He stepped forward to crush the smoldering smoke out and bring himself even closer, and as he lifted Beetlejuice’s face he pressed his open mouth against the ghost’s.

It felt like old times. 

Beetlejuice breathed in, taking the warm air from Otho’s lungs, like a thirsty man in a desert. Oh, he’d missed that--

Otho broke the kiss once he’d run out of oxygen. He stayed close though, hand now fisted in his jacket. Beetlejuice wasn’t sure if that was to keep him from disappearing from literally right under his nose, or just because the man had a propensity for wrinkling clothing. As dapper as he liked to present himself, he had a thing for mussed clothing up, like creases were evidence of passion.  

The only thing he could think to say was, “It feels different now that you have a beard.”

Jesus he was a dumbass. Luckily, Otho didn’t seem to share his opinion. “I decided to grow it out because of yours. Do you like it?”

“I don’t know. Let me feel it again.”

With that ham-fisted invitation, Otho kissed him again. It grew this time--more of the old give and take, more tongue, more suction--as they fell back into the familiarity of it. When Otho had to stop for air this time, he was panting. Beetlejuice was the one to hold him close, now, to luxuriate in the breath.

With fingers made crass from a flood of arousal, Beetlejuice cupped and dug at the pants and its closure in front of him. 

“My clients are downstairs,” Otho hissed, but didn’t make any move to step away or stop him. “Then don’t be loud,” Beetlejuice advised, unhelpfully. 

He’d managed to fight open Otho’s belt but the button was going to take two hands. He could just manipulate it free with a thought, but liked the tease of slightly frantic fumbling, and listening to Otho’s breath hitch as he did. He also liked finding that Otho still wore silk underwear. They felt nice, but provided no support against an erection. A wet spot, visible even in the frosty moonlight streaming through the window, marred the front of them. He had an urge to put his mouth there, to make that wet spot bigger, but Otho’s fingers under his jaw turned him up upward again. 

The man’s expression was unreadable once more. Beetlejuice didn’t know if he was going to be shoved away to end this or shoved to the dusty attic floor with Otho on top of him. What he got instead, was another kiss, this one harder, more desperate than the ones before it, a pull to an upright position, and a hand at his groin too, with equal floundering of his fly and a almost inaudible curse as Otho had to push the striped jacket back and suspenders off the specter’s shoulders to assist getting him undressed.

In very little time, however, both of them had their pants pushed hurriedly to mid-thigh, and Beetlejuice had been hauled to his feet. He should have known that there was no way Otho was going go to the floor and let dust and grime get on his tailored trousers. So now they were pressed torso to torso, groin to groin, mouth to mouth, and this time Otho only took sips of air when his lungs absolutely demanded it.

Bumping his hips forward, the specter was rewarded with a low groan. His bigger reward was the man’s large hand wrapping simultaneously around both their cocks. The heat and pressure made him gasp. 

A further rutting into that hand to determine how much movement he was granted made Otho gasp. “Clients. Downstairs,” he reminded him with a wicked grin. Otho retorted, “Then don’t be loud!” in a strained whisper, and gave them both a pull just to test him. That glorious warmth of his cock against another, of a hand stroking them both off--Beetlejuice moaned, checked himself, and buried his face in the other man’s neck to muffle himself. If he had his wits about him he’d make some comment about how moaning was going to be okay, this house was haunted after all, but the movement of Otho’s hand was shutting down his higher brain function. 

Not only was he losing the ability to keep the noises he made quiet, his hips moved of their own accord. The specter rolled his pelvis upward, chasing each stroke. He wasn’t alone in that; Otho pushed into his own hand, creating a beautiful counter friction as well. The man’s free hand held him in the small of his back, under his untucked shirt, searing his cold skin with the warmth of his palm. He missed that rough handling to keep him in position so much. He clung to Otho’s shoulders.

It’d been a long time since they’d been together, but Otho quickly fell into a practiced rhythm that suited them both: long pulls, an occasional twist for variety, a bit of a squeeze to stave off coming too quickly. Speaking of which--

Beetlejuice pried the fingers of one hand off Otho’s jacket and dropped it to the man’s fist. He meant to slow him down, meant to gasp in his ear to wait, give me a second baby, please--but the moment Otho loosened his grip to allow him to lace his tepid fingers between his, he wanted nothing more than to let pleasure take the bit between its teeth and have Otho follow quickly too. He wanted to be coated and smeared with the man’s come, and he wanted it now.

The combination of warm and chill, the doubling of pressure and friction pushed him higher and higher, closer to his end. A slight buckling of Otho’s knees made him hurriedly shift his other hand from his shoulder to his bare hip to help support him, and just as he wanted, Otho came in thick spurts over both their fists. The heat and additional bit of slick it provided was enough to send him over the edge as well. 

His cool release mingled with Otho’s, and for several moments they both simply leaned into one another. Beetlejuice would have stood there for an eon, soaking in as much warmth as he could. Otho was the one to gently start to move away. 

They both groaned as they carefully relaxed their hands from their cocks. Otho made up for the fact that he was the first to move by capturing the Beetlejuice’s mouth again, swallowing his groans. He also dipped his hand lower to pinch the specter’s ass, earning himself a surprised gasp and a chuckle, and a nip to his lower lip in return. 

Hobbled by his trousers, Otho had to dig for his handkerchief awkwardly. When he finally extracted it from a back pocket, he wiped his hand clean before offering it to Beetlejuice. He took it and cleaned himself as well, then stuck the square of cloth into his own pocket instead of handing it back. 

There was no sound for a moment but the rustling of clothing and re-fastening of zippers and other closures. Otho was done before Beetlejuice, and stepped against the ghost immediately after he’d resituated his suspenders.

Before he could kiss him again, Beetlejuice said, “I guess I like the beard.” Otho snorted in amusement--so un-guru like!--and kissed him. It was lingering and soft, and felt like they’d never been apart. 

It also felt like a good bye.

Beetlejuice steeled himself for another rejection as the man broke away again.

“Beetlejuice--”

He shuddered at his name spoken aloud again. He couldn’t help it. But here it comes--

“--I’m glad to see you again. But--|

Oh fuck. Here it comes--

“--we haven’t seen each other for so long. I just . . .”

Fuck his fucking un-life. He should just slink back into the Netherworld while Otho was searching for words.

“ . . . I just don’t . . . this is hard to say . . . ”

Fuck fuck fuck fuck! Why was is so hard to leave? Why couldn’t he be the one to leave, instead of people leaving him?! 

“You want to come with me, when I go?”

The words were spoken in a hushed rush, as if Otho just needed to blurt them out. It took Beetlejuice several embarrassing moments to comprehend them. “Come with you?” “Yes. I’ve been looking for you, you know . . .” He didn’t know. He wouldn’t have thought! Suddenly, the future looked, well, maybe not bright per se, but at least not as dim. 

He nodded, as if he had to reply as quickly as possible and didn’t trust words to be fast enough. 

Otho smiled. “Good. You have to do something for me first, though.”

He didn’t even hesitate. “Anything, baby. You just name it.”

“You have to get rid of whatever is actually haunting this place. You know I’m garbage at all that stuff.” Beetlejuice broke into laughter that probably echoed through the house, scaring the owners, but he didn’t care and knew Otho wouldn’t either. It’d just lend more credence to the man being able to banish spirits, just like the cons they used to pull back in the old days.

fin

[myhockeyworld87]

Take My Breath Away - Tyson Barrie

Word Count: 1,371

Requested: Yes

POV: Tyson’s

Warnings: None, this is just fluff

You’d met (Y/N) through mutual friends, those being Gabe and Mel. They were the same two people who encouraged you to ask her out. “Look, I’m just saying, you said you didn’t have a date for charity event coming up. You should just ask her to go with you.” Gabe suggested.

“Do you really think she would go with me?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t she?”

“Come on, it’s not like I’m really her type. I mean if I were Barbsy maybe.” Mark seemed more the type she went for than yourself if you were being honest.

“And you’re basing this off of what?” Gabe continued to question.

“Well, it was like two weeks ago when we were all out at the bar. Did you see her talking to that guy? He could’ve been Barberio’s double, I swear.” Gabe erupted in laughter. “Dude, it’s not that funny.” The guy was tall, dark and ruggedly handsome if you liked that sort.

Once he finally calmed down he answered you. “It is when you know that, that guy is her gay friend named Alex.”

“Wait what?”

“Yeah Mel, had to tell me. I had no clue either. He’s a really good guy, really funny; you’d like him.” Gabe added. “Just ask her to the gala and if you have a good time then you can ask her out on a date. What could it hurt?”

You followed Gabe's advice and asked her to accompany you; to your great surprise, she said yes. You found yourself at her door, picking her up that night. She looked stunning, standing there in a long blue gown, in fact, it took your breath away. It hugged her in all the right places, a low-cut back with a deep v-neck that revealed just the right amount of skin. “You look beautiful.” You softly breathed out.

“Thank you, you look pretty handsome yourself.” You headed off to the gala, a steady stream of conversation between the two of you the whole ride. It was easy and natural to be with her and you hoped the night would be this way as well.

As it turned out, it was. She was charming to all the patrons, carrying on light conversations with them. She even offered to take pictures of you and fans. The more time you spent with her, the longer you wanted it to be just the two of you. You were sharing a table with Mel and Gabe when the two women excused themselves to ‘powder’ their noses. “She’s perfect.” You told Gabe once they left. “Now what do I do?”

“Ask her out silly.” At the end of the night, you planned on just doing that.

You took her out on the dance floor, the two of you twirling around and swaying to the beat. She felt like heaven in your arms. “You��re a really good dancer,” she told you as you led her through the steps.

“It’s easy with you in my arms.” She blushed slightly and hid her face. “So you wouldn’t want to do this again, would you?”

“The dance or the gala?” She asked a wide grin on her face.

“Well…um…I meant actually going out on a date. You know maybe just the two of you sometime, instead of all these people.” It was your turn to be nervous.

“So just the two of us huh?”

“Well…yeah.”

“I think I’d like that…a lot.” You weren’t sure who's smile was wider, yours or (Y/N)’s. It was a week later that she was making you dinner at her place. You’d just got home from a road trip, where you had literally talked to her every day. You had planned on taking her out to a really nice restaurant, but she had caught on to you complaining the one night about not having a home-cooked meal. So when she suggested that she’d cook for you, you’d take her up on the offer.

“I was a little leery about what to cook since I don’t know your diet and all.” You always opted for healthy choices and the team chefs usually did a great job with that. “But then you mentioned you had a craving for pasta, so I thought I’d do a chicken parm with zucchini noodles.”

“Sounds and smells amazing, but you could’ve done regular pasta and not gone to all the trouble with the zucchini. I’m not that strict.”

“Oh, well now that I know that, I’ll make homemade noodles next time.”

“You make pasta?” (Y/N) was like a dream come true, beautiful and she cooked. It was almost as if she was made for you.

“Yeah, I really enjoy cooking and baking.” She baked too?

“I love to bake. My mom taught me to make the best lava cake.”

“Maybe we could make it together sometime.” Well, it was nice to know that she saw the two of you going out again, especially since the longer you knew her; the more you liked her.”

“I like that idea.” Dinner was amazing; (Y/N) was really a great cook.

The two of you hung out on the sofa drinking wine, talking, and laughing most of the night. Honestly, you couldn’t have asked for a more perfect date. It got late and you knew you should leave, but there was still one thing you were dying do. Your one arm had been casually draped across the back of the couch, near her neck, and set your wine glass down and then plucked hers out of her hands. You shifted your body closer to hers, then sifted your hands through her hair, drawing her near. She came willingly. You gave her a second to pull away but when she didn’t; you dropped your lips down to hers. The kiss was sweet and gentle, not really seeking anything, just learning each other. Slowly, she melted into your arms, opening slightly to allow you to deepen the kiss. She tasted of the wine you’d just had and you could get drunk on her taste alone. Her fingers played with the hair at the nape of your neck, sending chills all over your body. Your hands skated down her back, then roamed up her sides. You weren’t sure how long the two of you kissed, but it could’ve gone on all night as far as you were concerned.

As you lay in bed that night, you remembered every detail of that kiss. You’d honestly never forget it, as long as you lived. Now two and half years later it was just one of many that you’d shared with (Y/N). She was your soulmate; you knew that as sure as you knew that you needed oxygen to breathe. It was one of the reasons you’d asked her to move to Toronto with you, when you were traded and why you had a ring hidden your closet, waiting for the perfect time to give it to her.

Right now, might not be that moment, but you did have it planned out for when you were in the Bahamas. Tonight was the night of the charity gala for the Maple Leafs, and it reminded you so much of that first night, that wasn’t exactly a date but wasn’t not one either. “Babe, are you ready yet?” You yelled from downstairs.

“Just finished putting on lipstick.” She shouted back, then descended the staircase. The gown she had on was reminiscent of the one she wore back in Colorado. You were momentarily speechless and she raised her eyebrow at you.

“You take my breath away, you know,” You laughed lightly. “Just like the song.” You then proceeded to sing the lyrics to the popular ballad. (Y/N) rolled her eyes.

“God, Tys you are so cheesy.”

“I know but you love me.” You pecked her lips, wanting to kiss her senseless but knew that would only lead to other things.

“Yes, I do. Now, come on Celine Dion, we better get going before we’re late.”

“Seriously, babe, you’re going to bring that up again.” She continually teased you about singing that song once. “It’s an iconic song.”

“Not when you sing it, hun.” She kissed you real quick then headed to the car. God, you loved this woman.  

[detectiveguapo]

Choke

Summary: Miguel doesn’t like it when you ghost him. 

Pairing: Miguel Galindo x Reader

Words: 2905

TW: language, sex, consensual angry sex (but kinda has shades of non-con), physical violence, choking

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The roar of the engine rips through the quiet of your suburban street. Two wheels ignite the pavement as you steer the bars left, your modest bungalow finally coming into view. Everything is as you left it except for a pair of black cars with tinted windows parked on the adjacent street. A visit from the president, you think wryly. A window rolls down and you spot those clear-framed sunglasses and a salt and pepper beard (just begging to be sat on). “Shit,” you mutter, and it reverberates within the confines of your helmet. The moment you turn to your driveway and your engine sputters to a stop, the driver to the Bentley steps out. The kickstand scratches on the concrete as you pull the helmet over your head, your hair flowing out to fall down the small of your back. You don’t look behind you, but you can hear the set of footsteps encroaching upon your space.

“I know where you’ve been.” His voice is deceivingly placid, but you can sense the dark clouds and looming thunderstorm. The click of Italian shoes stops a few feet from where you’re standing, then you hear his men retreat a safe distance — far enough so they’re not privy to your conversation, but close enough to intercept if you decided to hurt a hair on their boss’ precious, pretty head. “You’re tracking me now?” “I wouldn’t have to if you were honest with me.” You chuckle at the irony of it all. Miguel Galindo — the man who keeps more secrets than the United States Treasury — is telling you to be honest with him.

The statement is infuriating, but it’s low on the list of things he does that make your blood boil. The demand to be truthful when you can’t expect the same in return is, frankly, unsurprising since you know what you got yourself into when you started sleeping with him. But it’s still bullshit. There’s also the possessiveness, the jealousy, the refusal to acknowledge you want more from him than he’s willing to give. You know it’s like diving in quicksand getting involved with the leader of a drug cartel, but you can’t help it. Reason flies out the window the second he shows up in his perfectly-pressed shirts, expertly-coiffed hair, and that stupidly gorgeous face. The fucking nerve.

He’s not even your type. He’s wound up tight, doesn’t have a speck of dirt under his fingernails, and can’t hang and have a beer with your friends. At least, that’s what you tell yourself when you try to resist the biological need to mount him. He’s not what you go for, seeing as you’re the kind of girl who gets around town in a Harley and makes a living tinkering with engines. But his infuriating way of getting whatever he wants works on you, because you’re really not that different from the other girls. You may be one of the boys, but you’d still be a hoe for Galindo if he asked nicely. And the fucker’s really good at that. He’s got a way of smoothing out your rough edges (with his tongue).

The door doesn’t slam behind you even though you have every intention of slamming it in Miguel’s face telenovela-style. He follows you inside the house, through the living room, into the kitchen, cornering you between the fridge and the hard wall that is his body. “Why haven’t you been answering my calls?” You take a swig from the orange juice carton and swallow hard, the citrus burning your throat. Putting it back in the fridge, you turn around and duck under his outstretched arm to move out of the claustrophobic space. “Stop walking away from me” he calls after you. “And stop ignoring my questions.”

You’re in the narrow hallway on the way to your bedroom when you feel a tight grip on your arm and your body slammed onto the drywall. It nearly knocks the wind out of you. Wincing at the sudden impact, you blink a few times before you see Miguel’s reddened face inches from yours. The knot between his brows is deep and his eyes are so intense you can’t bear to return his stare. There are moments when Miguel can be on the aggressive side when you’re having sex, but it’s something you’ve both consented to and discussed. You love it when he’s rough, sometimes egging him on to push your limits. But he’s never been like this outside of sex even when he’s angry with you; he’s never let any form of physical violence take over. A little part of you is scared as you’re suddenly reminded of who he is and what he’s done. You’re not oblivious. You’ve heard the stories. You know about the yellow raincoat deep in his closet. And yet, another little part of you located between the apex of your thighs is awakened. The shallow breaths between you in such a cramped space is the only sound that exists for a long, drawn-out moment. The rise and fall of his chest stretches the perfectly-pressed shirt until it forms creases around the buttons. He runs his hand through his hair in frustration with himself, then he takes a step back and groans. “Fuck.”

“I think you should leave,” you say with a crack in your voice, unsure of whether or not it’s really what you want. “Please go.” “Tell me why you left.” “Miguel.” “Why did you disappear without telling me?” he asks, almost pleading. “We were fine up until a week ago, then all of a sudden you don’t want to see me, you don’t want to talk to me, you want nothing to do with me. What is it? What did I do?” “I don’t want to do this right now.” Miguel slaps his palms against the wall, forearms on either side of your head. You close your eyes like you’re bracing for impact but it never comes. “You bailed on our arrangement, and I’m not leaving until I have answers.” “Our arrangement,” you repeat with bitterness laced in your voice. “The arrangement where you only crawl back to me whenever it’s convenient for you — only when you’re looking for a warm body to share your bed. But the rest of the time, you’re cool with the rest of the world thinking you’re some hotshot bachelor. You have no clue, huh?” “Is that why you’re running from me? Because of a fucking label? Because I don’t think it benefits either of us to make you my fucking girlfriend?” “Please,” you say. “This last week, I’ve come to realize I deserve more than to be Galindo’s puta.” “What do you deserve?” His mouth close to your ear, his breath trailing fire on your skin. “To be the Mayans’ puta?”

“Fuck you, Miguel.” You push him off you, but in a second he’s cornered you against the wall, his hands firmly gripping your shoulders. “You can’t speak to me like that.” “Fuck. You.” He grabs you by the chin, forcing you to look at him. “Try that again and —“ “— And what?” You spit back. “You’ll bash my head in? Cut my arm off? Choke me to death with your shirt?” He backs off a little like he knows he’s on the verge of doing something unspeakable, even for him. This is what you find so confusing about him. He has these moments where he’s compassionate and loyal, where he uses his brilliance for the benefit of others, and then there are moments where he’s too immersed in the terrible things he’s done that he isolates himself. He won’t let anyone he actually cares about see that part of him. He won’t let anyone he loves see him when he’s the man on the other side of that wall. But something vicious inside you sees that moment of vulnerability and decides to stab it with a knife and twist until he bleeds out. “Don’t tell me what to do. Don’t tell me who I can’t hang out with,” you say about your friends. You know it works because his expression darkens with anger the moment you bring it back to the Mayans; something about your relationship to the club is like picking at an old wound for Miguel. “I tell you what to do because I own you.” He presses his forehead against yours, his hands restraining your hips so you’re trapped with nowhere to go. “I even own the Mayans. I own every single fucking person on either side of this border. They work for me and they fall to their fucking knees for me.”

“If you own me then claim me.” Miguel looks into your eyes, his brows creasing and his lips parting. If he doesn’t want to be with you, then he’s not worth all of the pain. Even if he makes you feel good, it’s not worth the hurt when he leaves and pretend you don’t exist. “Make me yours, Miguel.” He thinks about it a second too long, and you push him off.

Miguel retaliates in a flash with his hand around you throat and his whole body slamming into you. He chokes you. He doesn’t even slacken his hold when his eyes give away how startled he is by the force he’s inflicting upon you. His grip stays the same even as you gasp for air and your eyes are wide in horror (and arousal). Your face is pointed to the ceiling as you feel the anguished cry from your lips turn into something along the lines of a mischievous smile. You buck your hips into his, and when he doesn’t change course, you spit in his face.

Miguel chokes harder. He’s crushing your throat so tight you feel your eyes bug out of your skull, and now you’re legitimately terrified you’re going to die of asphyxiation. Everything goes blurry and all you remember is the onyx gleam in his eyes and the bright white canines that you wish would scrape at your skin until you’re bleeding crimson for him. But then he lets go. His breaths are ragged while you’re coughing up a storm, trying to take in as much oxygen and save what’s left of your lungs. You’re doubled over, palm over your chest when you see him standing on the opposite wall. His fingers are running through his hair, his mouth muttering curse words in Spanish. You stand a little straighter as you let your fingers trail along the side of your neck, throwing him a challenge by smiling slyly in his direction. Shoving you against the wall and forcing his thigh between your legs, he kisses you. One hand wraps around the front of your throat while the other caresses down your cheek. It’s violent and tender at the same time. It’s infuriatingly Miguel.

He continues to strangle you but no longer with the same merciless force as before. Not when he’s simultaneously distracted by the taste of your tongue tangling with his, or the sensation of you rubbing on his thigh. His deft fingers loosen the buttons of your jeans and pulls them swiftly down to your knees. You kick them off, but not far enough. Miguel pulls away from the kiss and his chokehold to bend down and slip your jeans entirely off your legs, throwing them down the hall. He kisses and licks and bites your inner thigh on his way up then all the way down as he slides the lacy thong out of the way. Hands slide up under your white t-shirt, grabbing a handful of your tits. He squeezes with the same force he had on your neck and you gyrate onto his clothed erection. Hands wrap under your jaw, tilting your head up so he can kiss you. It frees you up to work on his trousers and his underwear, getting them out of the way so you can feel the hot, thick length that you’ve craved. As much as you’ve missed the feeling of being filled up by Miguel, the memory doesn’t come close to the real thing. He bucks into your hands as he cradles your face, his head buried in the leather-clad junction of your shoulder. “You feel so fucking good, baby.” He jerks into the tight ring formed by your fingers. “Don’t ever try to leave me again.” You loosen your grip and let your hands fall to your side. “You’re not going anywhere.” “You can’t make me —“ He wrings your neck in both hands and, this time, he lifts you off the ground. You claw at him in your state of panic, heels kicking against the wall so you can get down. Fear is coursing through every cell in your bloodstream. He’s going to kill you. Miguel Galindo, your lover who also happens to be a murderous cartel boss, is literally going to be the death of you. He buries his cock inside you. The tilt of his hips alleviates some of the pressure around your throat, allowing you to balance precariously on his length. He saves you by fucking you. You’re up against the wall, one hand tight around your throat and the other slides down to your hip as he pounds into you. Each stroke a ferocious testament to his bond of ownership.

The lights begin to dance in front of your eyes and the narrow hallway becomes a never-ending spiral. It might be from the lack of oxygen to your brain, or the merciless fucking, or a wicked combination of both. Miguel is in some sort of daze, laser-focused on one thing and one thing only and that’s claiming you so you’re at his mercy. His eyes are the darkest they’ve ever been and you wonder, in a brief moment of lucidity, if this is what he looks like when he’s ordering a kill. You slide down the wall as his grip loosens and his legs give out. Falling on the floor, you feel his weight on top of you, never disengaging his cock from your slick walls. He drives into you a few more times while he tries to catch his breath, and while you try to get some long, deep breaths of your own before he’s got his hands choking you again. He kneels. He pulls your ass off the floor so your back is arched, and he impales you to the hilt. You’re so wet and wired for him, but this new angle is hitting a new spot and it hurts (but in the best way.) Your body tries to rumble out a moan but he’s stifling it down and all it can do is simmer inside of you. This position opens you up and makes you even more vulnerable. While he keeps one hand on your neck, squeezing with every downward stroke, he takes his other hand to your clit. He doesn’t even give you time to adjust to the sensation as he circles and pinches with his fingers. He sticks a couple fingers in his mouth and lubes them up, positioning them over your over-sensitized clit. At this point, it becomes too much and your muddled brain doesn’t know if it’s experiencing immense pleasure or pain. You just know you’re going to die if you don’t get your release soon. “You’re mine.” He pants with deep, hard strokes. “You will always be mine.” There’s nothing about the way he says it that makes you feel comforted or makes you feel like you’re getting what you want. Being his girlfriend is a silly thing to ask of him — you know that, but you can’t help your heart from wanting what your head knows is a terrible idea. For a long time now, you’ve wanted to hear Miguel say those words. You dreamed to belong to each other. You just never expected those words to come out as a threat. Rolling your clit between his fingers and fucking you faster and stronger, you feel the wave crash over you and your whole body convulsing from the base of your belly outward. When you come, you lose your breath and pass out.

All you remember next is a haze. You’re gasping for air like you’ve just woken up from a nightmare as you feel Miguel pulling out. He’s still kneeling over you but he shoves your legs on either side of him. Still on his knees, he sits up so he’s towering over you. He grips his length with the hand he used to choke you and he jerks off, finishing in milky hot streaks all over your stomach.

When it’s all over, you roll to your side, clutching your bruised neck and coughing weakly. Everything hurts. There’s an ache nestled within the left side of your chest, right below your ribcage, and it makes you wonder if you’re having a heart attack. Chin on the floor, you blink a few times to see Miguel on his feet. He’s straightening his clothes — buttoning his trousers and smoothing down the wrinkles of his shirt. He walks toward the door, but before he leaves he looks at you with a mix of pity and an empty sort of affection. The kind one has for an object they desire, not for someone they love. “I’ll call you tomorrow,” he says quietly then adds, “answer your fucking phone this time.”

[bbrandy2002]

My Love

Chapter Four-Please Remember

Book: TRH

Pairing: Liam and Riley

A/N: Thank you @burnsoslow who edited the hell out of this and did so masterfully and just for all your support with everything. Also, @fromthedeskofpaisleybleakmore and @romanticatheart-posts I stole your words from your comments on the previous chapter. It was just two sentences but wanted to give credit where it was due. Keep your comments coming and you two will have this thing written for me..lol. And lastly, @dcbbw who sent me the perfect song for inspiration found here:

 https://youtu.be/3Ru1euNUN2s

Warning: Physical altercation and MC death mentioned.

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Silence fell on Liam’s lips as he held in his hand the first missing piece to Riley’s death. It had been exactly 12 hours since she departed this earth and his life,  taking with her the best parts of himself. Every second since had felt like thousands of painful stings throughout his entire body that he wanted nothing more than to numb.  Would this report provide him with all the answers he sought to why her life was taken from her? Would it make his heart hurt any less knowing what happened? Or would it simply open Pandora’s box, leaving him with more questions?  He knew it wouldn’t heal the pain he felt, but perhaps it would clue him into why she was gone.

Ignoring Bastien’s suggestion to sit, he turned away from his head guard and pinched the clasp of the manila envelope. With his heart thundering in his chest, he reached inside and slid the report from its enclosure. Pacing nervously, his eyes scrutinized every single word, line by line, from her name to how the exam was conducted. Nothing was abnormal.

He licked his thumb and turned to the second page. His eyes immediately caught sight of the bold type at the bottom of the page, and he couldn’t help but skip straight to it.

The cause of death is acute respiratory distress from potassium cyanide-induced histotoxic hypoxia. 

Manner of death: Homicide.

Liam read those words over and over again, unsure he really believed them. His stomach wrenched as thoughts of his own mother's murder began to haunt him; how could this happen again?  Riley, his love, the one who made him complete, who turned his world upside-down in the very best ways possible, succumbed to the same death his mother had over 20 years ago. Poisoned.

He had spent the last several hours contemplating whether he had done something to hurt her, thinking perhaps she hadn't been physically ready to be intimate the prior evening. As ominous as that thought was, knowing now that she was murdered, that he risked her life to marry for love after his father warned him of the pain of losing Liam’s mother, made him feel every bit as culpable of her demise. It was why he hadn’t chosen her at his coronation; he knew she was set up, but he had to protect her, even if it meant they couldn’t be together. 

Liam turned to Bastien with a remorseful look. “I killed her, Bas.”

“Sir, you did no such thing.”

He held up the report. “Then explain this … he warned me, Bastien; my father told me my love for her made me weak, that I put everyone at risk by choosing her. He was right.”

“Your Majesty, regardless of what the late King said, the same poison that killed your mother was found in the Queen. We need to proceed with an investigation and find out who really committed this atrocious act.”

Liam ran a hand down his face. “Yes, we need another damn investigation that will take you 20 years to figure out-except you didn’t figure out who killed my mother! my friends and I did that!” he spat.

“Sir, with all due respect, I wasn’t the Head Guard when your mother passed.”

Liam yanks Bastien by the collar, nearly nose to nose with him. “YOU ARE FOR THIS ONE!”

The guard attempted to loosen the grip, feeling the weight of his King’s words. “Please, sir. I understand the anger directed at me …”

“Oh, I don’t believe you can even begin to understand the anger I have for you, Mr. Lykel.” Liam stepped back. “You are charged with protecting my family, and so far two members of the royal family have been murdered on your watch:my father and my wife..So help me God, if I find out you could have prevented this and failed again …”

“What’s going on?” Drake asked, having heard the commotion and stepped around the corner to make sure everything was okay.

Liam continued to eye Bastien with a steely glare. “Drake, can you stay with Ellie while I take care of some business? I need someone I can trust to actually protect her.”

__________

In the lowest reaches of the palace, Liam placed two cold hands on the cell bars of the former Duke of Karlington. Godfrey had been imprisoned for the last six weeks, awaiting trial for his part in Eleanor’s death. The elderly man was lying down on his cot, stewing in boredom and oppressive thoughts, when he heard the familiar sound of keys clanking and the creaking of the door swinging open. Before he had time to lower the arm that rested over his eyes, he was jerked from his peaceful doldrums on the bed and brought to his feet. His aging body was thrust against the icy concrete of his prison walls, causing him to bounce off and stumble harshly to the ground.

“What is the meaning of this?”

Liam crouched down beside him, grabbing a fistful of Godfrey’s silver mane in one hand and his feeble neck with the other. “You son of a bitch. I will give you one chance and one chance only to rectify your miserable life before I strangle you with my bare hands!"

"This is preposterous," he gagged slightly as Liam's hand constricted tighter around his neck. Godfrey instinctively began tugging on the King's arm, desperate for breath.

"Did you kill my wife?" His tone became sharper.

The Duke gasped for air after the grasp on his neck was loosened. He furrowed his brows as he stared straight into the unforgiving eyes of his captor, unsure whether the lack of oxygen caused him to misunderstand.

"Did I hear you correctly? The Queen … is dead?"

Liam released his hold on Karlington's neck but kept the other bound to the back of his hair. "Did.you.do.it?'' he seethed.

"I haven't the faintest idea what the bloody hell you speak of!'' he replied contemptuously. "I'm facing death for what happened to Eleanor; what possible reason would I have for harming the Queen now?"

"Because you have a track record, Your Grace. The same poison you used to end my mother’s life was found in Riley’s body. I don’t believe this is just some coincidence.  You had nothing to lose."

"I would have nothing to gain either," he replied succinctly.

Liam let out a heavy sigh and stood, towering over the man whose deception and thirst for power had cost him years of anguish and emotional turmoil as a child. He searched Godfrey’s malevolent face for any indication of guilt or responsibility, yet none was detected. Feeling overcome by mental and physical exhaustion, he turned and walked toward the prison doors, where a guard stood nearby watching the encounter. “I’m ready.”

The guard pulled his keys from the clip on his belt and opened the door. As he exited and the lock was secured behind him, Godfrey pushed himself up from the ground and called out to him.

“Your Majesty!”

Liam stopped just out of view but did not face him. "What is it, Godfrey?"

Godfrey grabbed the bars of his cell and pressed his withered face against them.

“Sometimes we have no one to blame but ourselves. Are you really surprised this has happened, considering that from the moment you announced your engagement to the puckish American, our country has suffered one attack after another? Perhaps you’ll think wisely when choosing your next queen, because this lies squarely on your shoulders, Rhys."

Liam hung his head low Godfrey’s words were doing exactly what he intended them to do, getting under his skin and inside his heart. He did blame himself; he knew he always would. The guilt was eating him up inside because he thought the two of them together were unstoppable. They had encountered every possible danger together and always came out victoriously, but somehow he failed her this time. He turned on his heels, motioning for the guard to reopen Godfrey’s cell door.

“Take care of him.”

The guard nodded and lifted the pommel of his club from the holster at his side.

_____________

That evening, Hana would return to Valtoria. She had offered to stay, but Liam insisted he and Ellie would be fine. Maxwell and Bertrand returned to Ramsford soon after, and Drake retired to his room.

Liam stood just outside his bedroom after putting Ellie in her crib for the night. Fear of being in their room without Riley, sleeping in their bed alone for the first time and knowing that was the last place he saw her alive, prevented him from stepping inside. He placed his hand on the doorknob and slowly turned it, then let go. 

With the baby monitor still in his hand, he headed back downstairs and stepped out onto the balcony just off the living room. Liam placed both hands on the balcony railing and leaned into it. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, allowing the cool, spring wind that carried just a hint of honeysuckle to refresh his mind and relax his worn and weary body. 

“My love,” he began, peering down towards the entrance of the hedge maze. “I keep expecting to wake up and see that beautiful face of yours looking back at me, telling me this has all been just one horrible nightmare.” His throat began to tighten as his emotions started to resurface. “I have all of our wonderful friends, I have Ellie, but I don’t have you … and I’m so lonely, Riley,” he choked out. “I’m so lonely.”

Liam swiped away the tears that began to surface and roll down his cheeks like a torrential downpour. “Everyone keeps telling me that we will find out who did this to you - and I swear I will - but in the end, it won’t bring you back to me ... and our little girl will never know her mother, Ri. How do I even begin to tell her about you?... about us?” 

Liam pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and washed it over his teary face. His gaze turned to a small apple tree that he and Riley planted just outside the hedge maze shortly after finding out they were expecting a baby. Liam recalled she wanted something to represent the three of them: her being from the Big Apple, him being from the Land of Apples and their baby referred to by the people of Cordonia as “the Little Apple.” A thought crossed his mind, and he knew it was the right decision.  “Love, if it’s okay, I would like to lay you to rest under that tree.” He sniffles, “I think you would have wanted that.”

Feeling his eyelids growing heavier than he could withstand any longer, he said a quick good night, hoping it reached the heavens, before returning to the warmth of the indoors. 

Liam walked back upstairs and grabbed two blankets and a pillow from a hall closet. He entered Ellie’s room. Even with a guest bedroom, he didn’t want to be alone tonight, opting to sleep on the floor next to his daughter’s crib. 

______________

It had been one week since Riley died, and there were no leads, no suspects, no evidence other than the cyanide found in her body. No one who had spoken with or saw her in the days prior to the tragedy noticed anything that suggested she was sick. Cyanide poisoning kills quickly, though, and Liam, as the last person to see her alive, couldn’t explain how she ingested it. Their quarters had been swept, and no traces of suspicious activity was found anywhere. As frustrating as all of this was to Liam, he had something else on his mind today.

It had taken him three days to finally re-enter his bedroom, yet he still slept in Ellie’s nursery where the staff prepared a small bed for him there. He knew it was nonsensical, but he just couldn’t bring himself to be alone in bed without Riley.

Today, all businesses were closed, flags lined the streets of the Capital, and a frenzy of press and people were already gathering along the funeral procession route to pay homage to their beloved queen. At the palace, Liam stood before the vanity, adjusting his tie, smoothing out his suit jacket, and locking the emerald  cufflinks Riley gave him in place. He glanced over himself once more in the mirror before peeking down at Ellie, who was sitting in a bouncer on the vanity beside him, watching his every move. 

“All right, Princess, this is where your mother would tell me my tie is crooked or I have a hair standing up in the back. It’s up to you now; what’s the verdict?”

Ellie’s lips curved into a large smile, completely enamored by the attention she was getting from her father. “I will take that to mean the Princess approves,” he smiled back.

Liam gathered a baby cloth and slung it over his shoulder then lifted the baby from her bouncer. With a kiss to her forehead, he moved downstairs, where Bertrand and Maxwell were waiting for him at the door. Both brothers’ grim faces perked up at the sight of the approaching baby, who was almost a mirror image of Riley. Miss Talbert, who had served as Riley’s personal assistant, agreed to stay on as Ellie’s nanny, having helped care for her in one way or another since her birth.

“Amanda, she’s been changed and fed recently and will most likely take a nap within the hour.”

“Come here, sweetheart.” Amanda took Ellie from Liam’s arms. “We’ll be fine, Your Majesty; I’ll take good care of this little peanut.”

Liam kissed his daughter on the cheek. “Daddy loves you, sweet girl; I’ll be home soon.”

He looked down at his watch and then to Bertrand and Maxwell. “We should probably go.”

Stepping outside the front doors of the Palace, Liam took a deep breath and prepared himself mentally for what he thought would be some of the most difficult hours of his life. The eyes of the world would be watching his every move, every expression, and every shed tear. It wasn’t fair that he had to be strong; he detested the expectations he was burdened with on today of all days, yet it was what was conventional of a monarch during a time like this. Any sign of weakness could be detrimental to his country, or so he had been led to believe. He wondered why grieving the loss of your wife, your best friend, could be misconstrued as a sign of vulnerability ... but then, perhaps, today, he was vulnerable.

The sun was high, and the warmth it rained down was quite welcoming. With Maxwell on Liam’s left side and Bertrand on his right, they stopped at the end of the cobblestone walkway that led to the drive in front of the palace, and there they waited. The silence that commenced for the next minute was finally broken by the advancing sound of a horse’s trot. 

Drake was riding Maribelle’s Dream and pulled a wooden caisson bearing the casket of Riley Brooks. Draped over her coffin were the flags of Valtoria, Cordonia, and Ramsford, as well as a bouquet of her favorite flower, purple lilies perched in the center.

Maxwell lost all control of his emotions as she passed by, while Liam and Bertrand bowed their heads in deference. Once the carriage had cleared, the three men stepped forward and followed behind on foot, out the gates and to the cathedral. 

The service was a traditional, royal funeral. Liam wasn’t sure she would have liked it, considering she was anything but traditional. Sitting in the front row, he maintained his stoic facade as everyone around him wept and sniffled, yet inside, he was completely destroyed. He was devastated in his grief and the realization that the last time he was in this building, he was beginning his life with her; now, one year later, he was here once again, for its ending.

“King Liam of Cordonia, do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife? Do you vow to love her, comfort her, and cherish her, for better or worse, for richer or poorer, in times of joy and times of trial, til death do you part?”

“I do.”

At the conclusion of the ceremony and after all guests in the cathedral had exited, Liam, Drake, Hana, Maxwell, and Bertrand each gathered around Riley with heavy hearts. It had been decided they would each place a sentimental item with her and say their final goodbyes, away from rolling cameras and the eyes of the public. This would be their final time together as “The Gang” and wasn’t something they wanted to share with anyone else. 

Bertrand, never one for words, gave her a copy of the bill for the Applewood dress she never returned, knowing she would have found it hilarious and so perfectly him. His throat tight with emotion.  “Goodbye, Lady Riley, until we meet again.”

Hana stepped forward. “Riley, you gave me the confidence to be me, to follow my own path, to have fun, to laugh, to be wild and free. You’ve always been there for me, and I will never forget you.” She gave Riley the recipe for her hot cocoa that they had spent so much time bonding over. It reminded her of all their best times together. She placed a hand on her friend’s cheek.

Maxwell held out a small white box and placed it next to her. “I wanted to give you a box of cronuts because it was one of the funnest nights I ever remember with you … I assume you would appreciate the fact that I’ve already eaten half of them.” he chuckled through tears. “I’ll never forget you, Riley … I … I … I can’t do this.” Maxwell turned and fell into Bertrand and Hana’s embrace.

Drake inhaled deeply. “Uh … hey, Brooks. You already know what I got you.” He slipped a bag of marshmallows inside. “I can hear you laughing now and telling me how gooey I am on the inside. I like to think you had a little something to do that with, but don’t go getting all boastful about it.” He sighed heavily, running his fingers through his hair. “Damn, this hurts, Brooks … but I want you to know, I’ll take care of Liam and Ellie and … maybe you can save me a seat at that bar in heaven.” He smirked, “Yeah, my heaven has a bar, and all the whiskey I can drink.”

The four friends stood back, their arms around each other as Liam prepared to say goodbye. His thumb caressed her temple as he looked down at the face of his angel.

He cleared his throat and reached inside his breast pocket, pulling out several things. “Love … I have a few things to take with you, just some photos of us together and Ellie … and because you know me better than anyone, you would know I spent last night writing this letter to you … you always said I have a letter to write for every occasion. I won’t read it to you, but --” his lips began to quiver and his shoulders shook -- “I wanted you to know how proud I am of you … how proud I’ve always been of you. You possessed a strength I never had and without you, never will. All those dreams we won’t be able to fulfill -  yet we lived every dream we had to the fullest. We sure had one hell of an adventure, didn’t we?” He sobbed passionately, “We just ran out of time.” 

Liam leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on Riley’s lips, lingering for just a moment. “I always loved you … I always will.”

With that, “the gang” left together and returned to the gardens of the Palace. They gathered together for a private burial under that apple tree she planted, while the birds soared, the butterflies flew, and the squirrels ran across the lush palace lawn. The five of them held each other, cried and laughed, remembering times and a life they would never know again.

[chasingrobbie]

The Doctor Is In: Chapter 1 - Part 1 (Open Heart Book 1)

Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr. Harper Dorian) 

Word count: 2000

Warning: None 

Author’s Note: I’ve decided to take the plunge and have a go at publishing a bit of a series. As I’ve been replaying Book 1 I’ve just wanted to explore Ethan’s character more, so I started writing entirely from his perspective. 

This ‘series’ (hopefully I don’t get frustrated with myself and stop) takes the events from Book 1 as they are and then I have added my own stuff. I’d love feedback from anyone who give this a read. 

Yes, my MC has the same name and Harper Emery but that’s what it’s always been so yeah. I’ll make a joke out of it somewhere I’m sure.

Aaaand if you want to be tagged in future parts, let me know :)

Ethan’s well-worn running shoes hit the pavement with force as he lengthened his stride. The air was crisp and clean, the kind of air that stung the lungs, the kind of morning that he treasured; he inhaled deeply, desperate to drink in the solitude. This time to himself was never enough to satisfy the drain from the myriad of inane questions that awaited him each day at the hospital. Though today was different. Ethan knew that. The new interns were starting today. Nervous energy would flitter through the wards, trepidation and generally misplaced confidence would permeate the halls. Some of the best young new medical minds in the country had been hand selected by Ethan and the other notable staff of Edenbrook. God, all he could hope was that they didn’t cost him too many patients.

As usual, Ethan arrived at Edenbrook early to seek further sanctuary in the walls of his office. He poured through his current patients charts that had been updated in the short time he had been away from the hospital. It was becoming increasingly commonplace for him to fall asleep on the couch in his office. Jenner was really the only thing that pulled him back to his apartment with much regularity.

Slowly, the morning approached 8:30 and he knew that the interns would be gathering soon for their opening address from Harper. How far she had come still managed to shock Ethan at times. She had always been a formidable woman; it was one of the many reasons he had been attracted to her. But it was different now. She was different now. Ethan drank deeply from his coffee mug, the rich warmth spreading through his chest as he closed his eyes. A languid and purposeful inhalation filled his lungs as the familiar beep of his pager pulled him from his reverie. Naveen wanted to see him. Quickly, Ethan slugged back the last of his coffee, slipped on his white coat and left the privacy of his office.

Making his way through the hospital was always a task, so many people wanted pieces of his time. Though Ethan had not anticipated what was about to quite literally crash into his morning. Into his life. He was discussing one of his patients with a nurse when a commotion could be heard from the waiting area. Without hesitation he moved to help.

“Everybody, step back! I’m a doctor.” A voice cut through the confusion and concern of the onlookers. Ethan had been too far away to see who had spoken but judging by the ridiculousness of the declaration, that they are in fact a doctor in a hospital, he assumed it was an intern. And he wasn’t wrong, he’s never wrong. Quickly, he knelt down by the woman’s side. Adrenaline never took long to flood his veins. There was a time when his breathing would have been erratic because of it but now it fuelled him.

“Pulse is weak. She’s unresponsive.” Ethan stated without incident. It was then that he glanced around him and saw the intern he supposed had called for everyone to clear the area. The juxtaposition smeared across her face was all too familiar – total fear clashing against abject excitement. He remembered the feeling all too well. Their eyes met and Ethan noticed something else etched in the intern’s warm green eyes. It took him a moment to place what it was. It looked like resolve, which in the eyes of an intern was a rarity.

“You. Rookie. Get in here.” Ethan’s tone was clear and direct, as always.

“Coming!” The intern shouted without an ounce of hesitation. Ethan eased the patient into his arms and onto a nearby gurney. Before he could register it, the intern was at his side. Ethan could feel the heat rolling from her body. He needed to be careful, there was every chance she could be overtaken by the fire to help and make a costly error. He needed to help her focus, just as he had learnt to do.  

“What was she coming in for? Did she fill out a form yet?” Ethan quickly asked one of the nurses, Danny nearby.

“No, she’d just walked in,” Danny said dejectedly, his shoulders falling, knowing this could likely mean her death.

“If we don’t figure out what’s wrong with her fast, she’s gonna die on this table,” frustration was building in Ethan. Knots formed in his chest, the warmth and relief of his morning coffee replaced with thundering torrents of fear. He took in a languid and purposeful inhalation to steady himself.

“Rookie, check her B.P.” Ethan met the intern’s eyes for a second time, streaks of desperation had replaced her excitement.  

“It’s plummeting. She’s hypotensive. We’ve gotta get fluids in her,” the intern voice was accelerated but the tone was steady. She was doing well. Ethan was impressed. Almost instantly, Danny placed the I.V and the patient weakly clutched at the young intern’s hand.

“Doctor, look at this bruise. It wasn’t there before,” the urgency in the intern’s voice was evident. Ethan’s attention shifted to the deep bruise the was blooming on the patient’s arm.

“That’s the elbow she landed on when she fell. A bruise forming that fast would suggest that this woman is a haemophiliac. Good catch.” Ethan was further impressed. If the patient’s life didn’t hang in the balance, he may have even smiled.

“Also see her fingertips? Low oxygen saturation in her blood. Take a closer listen to her lungs. Hurry.”

“I can’t hear anything on her left side! And her right lung is struggling! Doctor, she’s going to suffocate!” The intern was frantic, but Ethan could still make out the resolve in her eyes. He hadn’t lost her yet.

“Nurse, we’ve got a code blue.” The words left Ethan’s mouth in cool trail. He’d done this enough to breathe through the chaos and the looming vultures, but he could tell that the intern was astonished and impressed by his calm exterior. He took the bag mask from the nurse and gently pumped air into the woman’s lungs. His hands moved with precision and practiced rhythm. The intern’s eyes raked over him and he was acutely aware of her eyes resting on him. Strangely, he liked it.  

“What do we do, Doctor? What’s happening to her?” Fear had continued to strangle the intern’s voice, Ethan knew if he didn’t pull her back from the precipice, she’d be overcome with it. Slowly, deliberately he uttered words of reassurance to tether her to him in this shared moment of crisis.

“Consider all the clues. It’s all there. You know this, Rookie.”

“It’s…it’s, uh…” Ethan watched entranced as she closed her eyes and took the same languid and purposeful inhalation he had taken earlier. Her eyes fell open and Ethan knew she had it.

“It’s a hemothorax!” Relief swum across her features.

“Precisely. A blood vessel ruptured and is filling her pleural cavity…”

“…blocking her lungs from expanding! That’s why she can’t breathe! But we can’t repair the blood vessel here!” The intern finished Ethan’s explanation and quickly reached the conclusion he had come to about a minute earlier. Again, a juxtaposition of emotions was spread across her face; satisfaction, dread and panic.

“We’ll have to do an emergency thoracotomy to drain the cavity instead. Nurse!” The nurse gave the scalpel and chest tube to the intern who had to quite visibly gulp down her clots of fear. Ethan lifted the patient’s shirt to expose the side of her rib cage. The flesh is too hot beneath his fingertips.

“We need a local anesthetic—” The intern’s fear was running away from her. Her voice trailed, lost amongst the temper of the moment. Ethan set his features into a firm and unforgiving line.

“We’re outta time! Do it now, or this woman’s life is on you!” Ethan’s voice was emphatic and authoritative as it rang clear through the throng of anxious onlookers. The intern’s eyes shifted, followed by a sharp intake of air. Ethan could hear her muttering the steps under her breath.

“Incision at the fifth intercostal space…anterior…to the mid axillary line…” Her hand was quivering. Almost instinctively Ethan reached out and took her trembling fingers in his own to steady them. Her skin was ablaze, tension radiated from it but he felt her relax into him. He found her eyes, his gaze softening as he took them in. The green edges of her irises were mottled with a golden hue. He’d never seen anything like them before.

“Hey…you can do this.” Ethan breathed the words out and the room had melted away. The onlookers, the nursing staff, no one else was there but them. She nodded and focused on her unsteady hand. Ethan still had her hand enshrouded in his own but now he could feel the trembling subside. Tension was replaced with resolve.

“There you go. Nice and easy.” Ethan voice cuts the air once more. Time had been suspended but the incision of the scalpel brought the rest of the world back into clear focus.

“Now the tube.” Hands still connected; they push the tube into the woman’s chest. Warm, crimson blood spurts from her side but quickly the blood begins to drain. The woman takes in a sharp breath. The intern is visibly elated. Fear and resolve are replaced with genuine delight and a little disbelief.

“We…we did it!” Ethan still has her hand in his, he squeezes it reassuringly. For a moment, Ethan thought she was going to attempt to hug him. Maybe she was.

“She’s stable. Get her into surgery…She’s gonna make it.” Applause erupts around them. For the first time in minutes, Ethan is reminded of the crowd gathered in the waiting room. The patient is wheeled away, the familiar wave of relief washes over Ethan. These moments. These victories. They are what give him the strength to continue through the tedium of his days, the times when he doesn’t succeed, when he can’t help.

“Doctor…that was…absolutely amazing!” The young intern turned to Ethan; she was still obviously riding the high of this first real-world victory. Ethan knew what he had to do. She had shown so much promise. He needed to push her.

“You’re right. It’s pretty amazing you didn’t get her killed.” The words fell from Ethan’s mouth in a cold tumble, heavy and loaded. He watched the joy crumble and confusion stretch its away across her face before she even spoken.

“Wait, what?” Her voice was smaller now. Ethan had to be pedantic, he needed her to walk away from this questioning what she could have done any better. The endless pursuit of perfection is what every doctor needed.

Ethan continued, matter of fact and critical. “Your examination was slow and superficial. Your scalpel technique, amateur at best…”

“Amateur?” She cut him off before he could continue. The edge to her voice was hostile not apologetic. She wasn’t upset, she was frustrated. He liked that. A glimmer sparked in her eyes.

“Maybe you could give me private lessons.” She smirked at him coyly.

“Ha! I just might, Doctor…” Ethan couldn’t help but smile. Her confidence took him aback. He grabbed the ID card hanging from her lanyard and inspected it closely. A realisation dawned on him; he knew who she is. Ethan recovered his composure in the split second.

“…Dorian. But I sincerely doubt you could afford my salary.”  

Ethan turned to leave, smiling to himself, and continued making his way to Naveen’s office. He could hear the murmurs of the onlookers as he departed. Yet, Ethan could only think about the intern. She was the one he had selected. She truly lived up to her application and test scores. Few interns could do what she just did on their first day. But there was something else. Ethan ruminated on it for a moment before her eyes seeped into his consciousness again. And that was where he left them as he continued down the hall.

The eyes of the intern remained fixed on Ethan as he walked away.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Soooooo yeah let me know what you think about if you’d be interested in reading Part 2 of Chapter 1. 

Thanks for reading!

Adding a tag for @choicesficwriterscreations 😘

[cautelous]

He has a long way to go. Not to the highest summit, of course, but… Targon stands impossibly tall against the backdrop of the Great Barrier. Mountains that are taller than the Ironspikes are cowed before the peak. The ascent.

But he only has to go to the Solari. Still a climb, still a journey - but not the journey. He finds beauty in nature and thrill from danger, yes, but the peak holds little promise for him. What would he find up there, if frostbite and oxygen deprivation didn’t kill him first?

Nothing but snow and ice and a sense of hollow victory, he imagines. The heavens only open for those pure of character, if the myths are to be believed, and he isn’t delusional enough to think that he qualifies. Noble goals and a noble heart, but justice outside of Piltover is still so set on judging actions and actions alone. The gods are no exception.

                                                        —

The Rakkor are far from unused to foreigners. They speak a common tongue with him, and while their grandmothers and grandfathers may have driven him from the land in an instant… Things have changed over the decades. Even in the past decade - he’s been here before, after all, and so much is different since then. He doesn’t have to hide, have to scamper up the mountain in the dark. The Rakkor’s opinions have shifted: so what does it matter if outsiders try to climb to the peak? If they are worthy, the spirit of Targon will embrace them and guide them higher. If they aren’t, their bodies are a sacrifice to feed the mountain.

He spends two days there, going over the contents of his pack again and again. It’s heavy - overloaded, truthfully, for a man of his weight - but he’ll manage. (Or he won’t, and his body will end up as one of many lost beneath the snow or down a crevasse.) There’s others on their journeys, others that he can climb with until their paths diverge. (That’s something new, too.) Cover, if she comes looking. (Won’t she?)

Thrillseekers and adventurers and dreamers. He sees how they shoulder their packs lightly, how they laugh and joke and cheer. (He joins in too, of course, and celebrates on the night before his and some of their departures.) Confident in the mountain guiding them up. No ice axes, no crampons, just their hands and determination. Won’t that be enough, if they place their faith in the divine?

Maybe it will be. Or maybe he’ll see their colorful coats blowing in the wind, higher up on the mountain, as he descends.

                                                        —

The first few days of climbing are more than manageable. The spring thaw had happened a month before, and so they make camp in grass that’s unburdened by snow. The others are less unprepared than he’d originally thought: they have food and shelter, at the least, and the other climber from Piltover has her own backpacking stove for warm meals. They boil water over it each night, taking turns donating packages of tea for the others. The Demacians - brothers, he finds out - look on with a mix of suspicion and interest the first night, but take the offered drinks on the rest. The Noxian has no hesitancy. The Freljordian keeps to herself, eating pemmican and jerky from the lightest pack of the group. Determination has set in as they climb, the stuff of jokes now reality.

The other Piltovian - Beth, he’d learned at the base of the mountain, and he’d given his name as Vincent - is a quiet and kind soul, but still spirited, once the ascent begins. His own mood has turned introspective as well, whether from the journey ahead or the mountain itself.

They sit at the edge of camp, one night, and stare out into the brilliant sky.

“Vincent,” she starts, looking over to him. “Why are you climbing?”

He sighs and watches his breath crystalize in the night, letting the lie come easily. “I’ve always wanted to. Do you remember when the first one of us made it up? The news didn’t stop interviewing him for a month, and… he’d said he’d seen ‘such beautiful things’.”

He remembers the articles and the newscasts. Something that had been talked about over distant dinners - his brother had called the man an idiot, for risking his life for a pointless title, and his mother and father had agreed.

“I wasn’t around yet,” Beth says with a laugh. “But I read about him when I was a girl, so I guess we’ve got the same reasoning.”

Her words hit him in the chest. “You’re- ah, you’re younger than I, then.”

She rolls her eyes. “I’m twenty-four.”

“You- you,” he stumbles over his thoughts, turning to her with concern in his eyes. “Beth, you shouldn’t be up here. Not now.”

“If not now, when?”

Gods. He’s a hypocrite, really, worrying over her choices when he’d been robbing nations at her age. But imprisonment isn’t a cold and lonely death on a mountain. It doesn’t matter what he says, though - he knows that look on her face.

“If not now, when…” he echoes and stares up at the sky. Then he gets to his feet. “I’m turning in for the night. We’ve ground to cover tomorrow.”

“Rest your old man bones, Vincent.”

                                                        —

They reach the highest Rakkor settlement after a few more days, and the mood brightens once again. They’re nearing the point of no return, yes, but in the here and now there’s life and living. The Rakkor play host, children darting about and laughing as adults watch with relic-weapons at their hips.

He knows of the Rite of Kor. He knows that each of these men and women have slewn another - another child - for the sake of battle-hardening and survival. (He’s been here once before. He’s held a weapon and known that his are the only bloodless hands to have touched it. It sits in his private gallery with all the rest.) But they offer their hospitality for seekers of Targon’s truths. What a change, what a thaw.

Or perhaps it’s just a matter of sacrifice. He feels the mountain wind run him through as Beth laughs and talks with a girl, the other Piltovian crouching low and listening attentively.

                                                        —

The Solari make their home higher still, secluded from the main path up Targon’s flank. His divergence will be noticed, of course - he can’t run off in the middle of the night. But he has his explanations.

The Demacians, Frederick and Jonathan, have warmed up to everyone - even Felix, the Noxian. They share tales of valor over the stove at night, the three admitting that they had no idea that those from the opposite nation could be so… human. Even Erna has thawed, offering sips from her leather flask to the party and singing into the night.

They’ve all discussed their reasons for climbing. Beauty, achievement, pride, wonder, longing. He keeps his story the same. Inspiration from another, a desire for beauty. It’s true, if one looks at it in the right sort of way.

He asks the group one day, once their mutual camp has been set up, if they wouldn’t mind sitting for a few sketches. Beth claps her hands in excitement - Vincent, you’re an artist? Why didn’t you say anything? - as he pulls a sketchbook and pencils from the bottom of his pack.

It had been extra weight. It had been worth it. So he sets about committing their features to paper, one-by-one, and leaves out his reasoning. It’s something more permanent than memory. Something to prove that they existed.

Beth pulls him to the edge of camp, later that night, and they stare up at the nearly full moon. He worries for her. How could he not? She’s too young for this. Too soft for this. Everyone but them is a warrior, and he’s had his complicated life to prepare him for this. She’s a dreamer, hardly out of her studies - hardly into the real world at all.

“So why are you really climbing?” she asks, gloved hands cupped around an insulated mug. Steam rises in the cold.

“I’ve told you a few times, haven’t I?”

“And you’ve been lying,” she says with a shrug. “At least, I think you have. Not telling the whole truth, at least?”

He freezes. It’s the first time someone’s caught him in a lie in… years. And it has to be someone like her, doesn’t it? The last person he’d suspect. In any other situation, he’d deny it, play it off, laugh. But Beth deserves honesty, he imagines. She’s gone past her point of no return.

“Guilty as charged,” he murmurs. “I’ll tell you.”

“Well, go on then!”

“The Solari,” he starts. “That’s my end-goal. I need to… speak to them.”

She breathes out a ‘huh’. “Didn’t take you for the religious type, Vincent.”

She deserves honesty. Maybe not the whole truth - he can’t surrender himself to the will of another, not now, not here, not with the wrong person - but enough of it. It’s the least he can do. He looks to her and pushes the thought of purple-black frostbite from his mind.

“It’s Julian, actually,” he says with a laugh. It doesn’t sound forced.

He expects her to draw back - to accuse, or at the very least frown - but all she does is chuckle. “I thought you didn’t look like much of a Vincent.”

“I suppose I don’t.”

Chuckles give way to quiet concern. She stares out into the void for some time, silent. “Hey… You don’t have to tell me, but - whatever you’re looking for with them?”

“Yes?”

“I hope you find it, Julian.”

                                                        —

He breaks from the group the following day, pointing out his new route on his map. Everyone takes it well enough, although even Erna seems concerned at his departure. But he wishes them well (and gods, he means it) and soon enough it’s just him and the snow and the ice.

The Solari had been hard to plan for. Records on what relics they have are vague, at best, half-finished anthropologic surveys in the basements of universities and the words of the Radiant Dawn his only clue. But he has his target: another manuscript. He hopes it’ll be small enough to tuck into a pocket of his pack. Preservation is essential, after all, and the thought of accidentally destroying something so priceless is anathema to him.

As for his plan? Simple in planning, complex in execution. The full moon is in a few days. The Solari will stand watch at the edges of their territory, or so he’s been told. Rituals and customs and patterns. Their archives will be left unguarded.

Of course, if he’s caught… he’ll be executed. But that’s the nature of his work. Perhaps he and the others aren’t so different, after all.

                                                        —

The heist goes fine. The hardest part had been the trip to and from his camp, hidden far enough away from the Solari village that they wouldn’t spot it. No light but the moon’s. No sound but the crunching snow and ice. (And the matter of hiding his path, of course.) But he has his prize, written in a language that he can’t read, and he feels…

He feels lighter, truthfully. He knows what the pages say, or at least the gist. The structure would make it obvious, if he hadn’t already known from his research.

Poetry. Devotion to the sun as the giver of all life, as the celestial being whose love warms the world. The Solari depict her as a woman, he’s read, hair a mane of fire and skin the color of a burning sunset.

He’d left a card in a new color. (They’re going home. Together?) But that will have to wait. For now, the sun needs to rise. He needs to descend. He needs to survive. He forces himself to sleep, book tucked safely away in his pack, and ignores how the shadows seem to dance and twist in his dreams.

                                                        —

The descent is harder than he expects. He finds himself expecting to hear others’ voices, to hear Felix speaking of the life he left behind, to hear Erna humming, to hear the hushed conversations of Fredrick and Jonathan. He expects to hear Beth’s laughter as his foot punches through fresh snow, expects an arm to shoot out to balance him.

He expects company, and its absence chills him far more than the wind. Gods. How had he ever thought poorly of them? They’re all the same, them and him, all dreamers holding onto faith and luck. They just placed - place, he amends with a jolt - their faith differently than he. All the same, but they believe in a goal and he believes in a woman. No one’s more justified than the other.

He looks up into the cold, clear night each time he makes camp. He’s never been a religious man, but he bows his head to the stars regardless.

Let them summit. Bring them home. Please.

He says another for her.

Let her live. She’s too young. Have mercy, please...

He says another for her.

Let her be happy. Let this work. Let her see how much she’s needed, still. Let her choose for her sake.

He thinks, briefly, about saying one for himself. But he’s pushed his luck enough with three. He doubts the gods - or whatever is out there in the inky blackness - would have much tolerance for a man such as he, anyways.

He only hopes that they tolerate prayers for others’ sakes.

                                                        —

It hardly feels real when he steps - nearly tumbles, really - back into the village at Targon’s base. He knows how he looks after pushing himself for days, after not stopping at the Rakkor settlement. He needed to beat the Solari down the mountain, after all, and they had the advantage of it being their home. But he’d done it. The Rakkor give him a wide berth - do they think that he’d summited? Do they think that he’s been changed?

He has been, but not by the peak. His pack feels heavier than when he started. It’s not due to the manuscript. But he makes his exit, begins the long journey home, and tells himself that he isn’t leaving anyone behind.

                                                        —

He reads the paper religiously in Piltover, buying morning and afternoon and evening copies. Her name was is Elizabeth Hargreave. She’ll be trumpeted and heralded, he knows, once she makes it back. But a week passes. Two. Three. There’s nothing.

Maybe, he bargains, she’s come back quietly.

So he goes to find her. Because she has to have made it. The world’s a cruel, cruel thing, but it can’t be that senseless. She’d had faith. They’d all had faith.

He finds grieving parents.

He doesn’t speak to them.

He carefully tears one of her portraits from his sketchbook, folds it into a crisp little rectangle, and mails it to their address.

No return address. No added words. What could he say?

He finds himself drinking more wine than usual.

                                                        —

He finds himself staring at the two manuscripts, a half-empty glass in his hands, and wonders if he’s made a horrible mistake.

It all depends on what she thinks, he imagines, and he downs the rest.

[oldsoldierr]

The Carnation ~ Part 6

summary: the media always told you that the famous art critic bucky barnes is an arrogant, rude playboy and you agree, but something still draws you to him. is there a deeper reason to why he acts the way he does or is he the class A jackass you first met?

art critic!bucky x artist!reader

word count: 1.7k

series masterlist

The sound of a gun cocking snapped him back to reality. A low, sinister voice followed.

“Hey, James. How’ve you been?” 

It was husky and haunting. Bucky felt the cold metal of the gun muzzle against the back of his head. He slowly put up his hands.

“I don’t want any trouble,” he growled. He heard an apathetic chuckle behind him.

“Well I do.” he felt Brock get closer to him. 

“You’re gonna do what I want and you’re going to like it,” he snickered.

“Just kill me already. I’m not going to play your game,” Bucky retorted aggressively. 

“Oh I think you will.” The brunette could hear the smile in Brock’s voice. He heard some shuffling in the back seat before a paper was slipped into his lap, face down.

“Flip it over.” Brock shoved the gun harder into Bucky’s skull. He begrudgingly turned it over. He regretted it immediately. 

There, on the page was a picture of his sister in her kitchen. Bucky moved to cover his mouth. She was smiling blissfully, with no clue she was being photographed. Brock could shoot him, but he wouldn’t allow him to touch his sister.

“Why are you doing this?” he breathed. He knew Brock’s answer.

“I’m not letting you ruin my reputation. I worked hard to get where I am, and you’re not going to try anything. Now, you can take my offer. Or,” Brock equipped a faux sorry voice. “You can kill your lil’, poor, baby Becca. Your move Barnes.” Bucky took a sharp breath.

“What do you want?” The brunette looked into the rear view mirror to Brock grinning like a maniac. 

“You’ve got a lot of questions for a dead man.” He leaned in close. Bucky could feel the heat from his ex-manager on his ear. 

“I have only one request.”

Brock continued in a menacing whisper. With every word he said Bucky felt like he was losing more and more oxygen. The simple sentence felt as if it was an eternity. When Brock finally pulled away, he only said six words.

“You’ve got a week. Bye now.” he opened the car door, and disappeared into the night. 

It was as if he was never there, but the single Polaroid of his sister taunted him, reminding him this wasn’t just a nightmare. Bucky sat completely alone, soaking wet, with not much more than thousands of strings of thoughts choking the air out of him.

He just wouldn’t accomplish Brock’s request. But the thought of his family’s blood on his hands was so much stronger. How did he get into this shit? He let his forehead fall onto the steering wheel in defeat. 

~~~

On the first couple days after, Bucky had been confident he could avoid any of the outcomes. There had got to be, there HAS to be, there always is. But days kept going by, faster than he could fight. His hope for an easy solution, or pretty much any solution, dwindled and was diminished, like a small, pathetic flame. 

Before he knew it, it was the morning of the seventh day since that night. Bucky had slaved for hours trying to find some way, some loophole, out of this but he just couldn’t find one. The deadline was approaching quickly and he didn’t have much of a choice. 

He sat in his dim living room mulling over his very limited options. Bucky looked like a wreck. His hair was greasy and tangled, his eyes were sunken and dark, he looked like he could’ve just gotten out of a cave he’d lived in for 100 years. He hadn’t been able to get any sleep for three consecutive days. 

He had done nothing but think but he still came out empty handed. There was nothing he could do. 

Bucky would have to do what Brock wanted. He put his face in his palms as a sob wracked his body. He shuddered in silent tears. They slid off his cheeks and landed on his carpet. 

Bucky would have rather been dead than be him at this instant. No matter what he did, someone would die tomorrow. Everything felt heavy. 

All he ever wanted was to be an art critic, his dream job since he discovered it. He supposed this was the price. Everything had seemed so perfect, too perfect. He should’ve know. Bucky laughed without humor and took a sip of beer from the bottle. He couldn’t have imagined being in this situation in his worst nightmare. Yet he was still here. 

That was Bucky’s last thought before he collapsed onto his couch and blacked out almost instantly. 

When he regained consciousness it was the evening. Bucky checked his watch. It was 10:43 pm. Only a little more than one hour until Becca would be killed. It was a ticking time bomb with no way to disable it. 

He had a decision to make. In the end, there was only one choice. He had known it all along but it was still endlessly painful. Even to think about it made him feel like his heart was getting cut out. 

“I guess it’s time,” The exhausted looking man mumbled. Life was far too long. 

He reached for a single pistol placed at the end of the clear glass coffee table. The last resort. Bucky grasped it with a shaky breath and slid on a black leather jacket. 

He walked out of the apartment. He got in his car and began driving. He drove as slowly as possible. Maybe that would delay what was about to happen. 

He tried to admire the outside world, one he might never see after this. Every tree, bug, person, building. The things he should’ve appreciated more. His destination was now only a little more than five minutes away. Bucky could barely breathe. His arms felt numb. 

Four minutes.

Three minutes. 

Two minutes.

One minute.

He saw the building coming up. The pit in his stomach grew. Bucky swallowed. If he had stood up at that moment his knees would have buckled. He felt like he was going to pass out but pulled up to the building anyways. He didn’t even bother to park, he just left it there in the middle of the parking lot and climbed out. 

He padded his way to the front door. It was locked but Steve had given him a copy of the key before he left. Bucky inserted the key and stepped inside. 

The halls were echo-y but not too large. What was though, was the staircase. It seemed to go on forever. Or maybe that was just what it felt like at the time. 

With a huff Bucky started his way up. His steps felt heavy. Each one boomed of a man who didn’t have any more strength left in him. He passed two floors, barely registering it. All he knew was what would happen at the third one. He was there the next minute. The adrenaline was catching up to him. 

Down the hall he saw the one person he wished to avoid as long as possible. You had come home for a quick change of clothes before leaving for some food. You came out of your apartment and fiddled with your keys a little before locking your door. 

You went to keep walking but instead you saw a certain brunette man who had missed his usual visits to the art studio. You figured it was because you had slept with Sam. You still felt guilty. You had been trying to contact him and explain but he never picked up or responded to any of your many texts. 

This seemed like the chance you’d been needing to make amends. You were a tad suspicious of why he’d come to your place, or how he even got in but you brushed it off. 

As you got closer to him you realized how terrible he looked. He could’ve been a walking corpse. His eyes were swollen and red like he had been crying. 

“Bucky!” you ran towards him. “Are you okay? Gosh, come here--” You stopped dead in your tracks. 

Bucky had pulled out a gun from his pocket and was pointing it straight at you. You felt all your air leave your lungs. A silence rang through the hall.

“...Bucky?” you breathed. Your confusion laid out on your face. The man in front of you looked as if he might fall apart at any moment.

“S-stay where you are!” He threatened, tears brimming from his eyes. You were still processing what was happening. 

“What are you doing?” you asked, fear creeping into your voice. He attempted a smile. It wasn’t ill intended though, it was one of those charming lop-sided grins that you liked, but this one felt different than the rest.

“I’m so sorry,” he choked out, full of remorse, ignoring your question.

“He-he said he’d kill my sister if I didn’t--” He took a breath. You took the opportunity to step toward him hesitantly.

“Bucky, we can figure this out, just please put the gun down.” Your words only made him hold on harder to the handle. He cocked the gun.

“Don’t get any closer to me.” He told you. His eyes were sad and mournful. He looked broken.

“Please,” he begged.

“Okay,” you held eye contact with him. “I won’t.” 

He interrupted, “I never meant for you to get swept up into this, I--I just wanted to have a normal life for a little bit, but--” his lip trembled. “--but I shouldn’t have. Now you're gonna hurt for it and I--I’m so sorry. You’re an amazing person, you always figured out a way to make me laugh and--god--your talent, it’s unbelievable. And I know it doesn’t mean much now but, I just needed you to know that you have been the best part of my life--for a while now--and I’m so lucky to have found you. Visit me in hell, if you get the chance.” Bucky breathed out a chuckle.

“D--don’t talk to me as if this is goodbye. We can still change this, we’ll find a way!” you searched his face for anything that could tell you that this was just some mean spirited joke, but it wasn’t there. 

Something else seemed to change in his face though you couldn’t quite place it. Bucky’s finger quivered on the trigger, a single twitch away from firing. He gave you an earnest, reassuring look that was contrary to the rest of his body.

With a shaky breath he continued. “I love you.”

He pulled the trigger.

only 2 more chapters(probably)! thank you for the support on my first series! i’m really bored so if anyone wants to hit me up feel free! 💕💕💕

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@the-fifth-marauder101​

[puckinganderson]

Finding You - Part Three

Feat. Josh Anderson

Part One // Part Two

Word Count: 4,070

Warnings: alcohol, drugging

A/N: I’m seriously so sorry it took me so long to get this part of the story out!! This isn’t as long as I’d hoped it would be, but I really struggled writing this to bridge a gap in the story. I’m really excited for what I have planned in the next few updates, so it won’t be long again :)

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

“Shit,” you huffed out to no one but yourself. Your legs were aching for relief and every breath burned at this point in your run, but you continued with the punishing pace. You absolutely hated running, like any sane person, yet you needed the time to think desperately.

Ever since your second night with Josh a few weeks ago, you’d started seeing each other regularly. Him being on the road helped give little breaks and you found yourself needing them to get a breath of fresh air. Josh was someone who consumed the entire space around him with his energy.

You found yourself getting lost in him the more time you spent together, and you honestly didn’t like it. It had taken months to feel independent again after your breakup and you didn’t want to risk losing that over sex with someone that it wasn’t realistic to have a relationship with.

And that was fine, really. You didn’t want to force Josh into a corner, because you were enjoying the carefree, unspoken arrangement that you had. It pushed you have fun, while still keeping a balance of normalcy.

You both kept things low-key and casual, texting one another when you were bored or just needed to forget for a little while. It had been working, for now at least. You knew that you were walking a fine line and didn’t want to let yourself become to comfortable with him. Even though you and Josh hadn’t made set boundaries, you rarely stayed the night with him.

Rounding the corner to your street, you sped up knowing the pain in your lungs would be over soon enough. Coming to a stop in front of your house, you bent down to rest your hands on your knees. You sucked in shallow breaths, trying to get oxygen to your brain.

Barely even looking up, you wobbled towards the stairs of your porch. It took a second to realize you weren’t hallucinating Josh leaning against your front door.

“What the hell are you doing here?” you groaned out, pissed he was seeing you when you knew that your face was red with sweat dripping down your forehead.

“Oh wow, happy to see you too, Y/N,” he chuckled to himself, taking a moment to look you over.

“Please stop looking at me,” you huffed out, still short of breath from your run.

“Hey, not everyone can be in shape like a professional athlete,” he chuckled out, earning an eye roll from you.

You lightly punched his shoulder, laughing along with him because he kinda had a point. “I’ll have you know that I was running regularly until you started taking up all my free time.”

“Oh yeah? I didn’t realize I was so distracting,” Josh prodded, and you tried to think of something to change the subject so he wouldn’t go there. You were already overwhelmed enough, and the idea of having that conversation with him made you start to panic a little.

“Anyways, why are you here?” you questioned him. Josh had only been to your house to drop you off after spending time together, and you wanted to keep it that way. You wanted to keep a bridge between him and your personal life and having him in your space would be too much. Plus, you were a college student, so his place was much nicer anyways.

“I was in the neighborhood and wanted to see if you had any plans tonight,” he answered, while following you into your house once you unlocked the door. You kicked off your shoes and settled on the ground to stretch out, noticing that Josh was looking around your house.

Kicking your legs out in a V, you leaned forward to stretch your thighs. “Actually, Kate and I are going out tonight.”

You let out a little moan at the feeling of your muscles finally starting to loosen. Josh cleared his throat and shifted from where he was sitting on your couch, giving you a look. “Do you really have to be a tease, Y/N?”

“Get over yourself, my legs will be too sore to go out later if I don’t stretch good,” you told him while rolling your eyes at his comment.

“Well perfect, don’t go out and stay in with me,” Josh said with a boyish smirk, knowing he was pushing you.

“Actually Joshua,” you snipped out, switching positions and leaning backwards, “you’re the one who has been taking up all my time and the reason I’ve been neglecting my best friend.”

It annoyed you to hear his laugh, even though you were responsible for how you chose to spend your time. “Well don’t be mad at me if I say I’m not sorry,” Josh chuckled.

You felt him move behind you and before you had a moment to protest, his hands were rubbing your shoulders gently. A moan erupted from your throat and you couldn’t help but let your head lull backwards. Josh didn’t need to know it, but you were a sucker for a good massage.

“Let me help you stretch,” he whispered in your ear, brushing the hair off of your neck.

“Mmmm,” was all you could get out, the sensations from his strong hands were too much to even process what he was saying.

Josh pulled you down to the ground, so you were laying down completely. Moving around to your legs, he lifted on and pushed it so it was flat against your chest.

“Fuck Josh, that hurts,” you groaned out, the muscles in your legs aching so bad.

“Shhh, the pain will go away in a second and then you’ll thank me.”

Sure enough, he eased up on the pressure and then pushed again, this time the muscles feeling so much more loose. After another minute of working on your right leg, he moved on to the the same thing to your left. Your eyes had been clenched closed because of the pain, so it took you by surprise to see how close Josh was to you when you finally opened them.

You took in a shaky breath and swallowed, trying to avoid eye contact, while he was staring into your eyes intently. He was so close that his intoxicating scent consumed you and sent you into overdrive. It was too much, he was too close, in your head and in your home. Part of you wanted to give in to what he was so willingly offering, but you needed to keep boundaries.

You looked back into his soft eyes, watching you carefully, and cleared your throat. “Uhh, thanks, that actually helped a lot.”

Josh got the hint and sat back onto the heels of his feet, allowing you room to sit up. You weren’t quite sure how to get him out of your space so you had a moment to think.

“So, there’s no chance in me getting to see you tonight?” Josh asked before you had a chance to overthink things anymore.

“How about this?” a smirk came across your face when you thought of an idea to keep things playful. “If you can find me, then you can see me.”

Josh rolled his eyes at the little game you were offering, but didn’t shut the idea down. “Y/N, how the hell am I supposed to find you?”

Taking a step towards him where he sat on the ground still, you reached a hand out to play with his hair. “C’mon Josh, you’re a smart guy,” you looked down at him with a flirty look and bent over to whisper in his ear. “If you want to bad enough, you will.”

Josh let out a small groan at the feeling of your lips dancing on his ear. Knowing you had him in your hands like putty, you dropped your hand and took a step backwards. You walked towards your door and opened it for him, turning around to give him the hint it was time to go. “In the meantime, I’ve got errands to run.”

On a sigh, Josh pushed off the ground and stood to his full height. You weren’t quite sure how his large size surprised you, but you really couldn’t believe just how solid he was. Where your body was soft, with full curves, Josh was all muscle. Rock hard, broad and just, big.

Walking over to the door, Josh leaned onto the door frame and looked at you where you were still holding the door. “Any clues before I go?”

You took a second to mull his question over, not wanting to give away anything that would help him too much. Truthfully, you weren’t sure what yours and Kate’s plans were for the evening, but he didn’t need to know that.

“I’ll be drinking,” answering his question, while giving him something that wouldn’t help his search at all.

Josh processed your answer and started to laugh, but before he had the chance to say anything, you closed the door and locked it.

•••

“Hello, earth to Y/N,” Kate said while waving a hand in your face. You snapped back into reality and realized she had been holding up outfit options. “This black bodysuit, or should I change back into the blouse?”

You took a second to look over her outfit, giving her your full attention and an honest answer after zoning out. “Definitely the bodysuit, it makes you look really hot.”

Kate seemed pleased with your answer, walking over to get her shoes on while you finished up your makeup. The Ohio winter had finally hit and the weather wasn’t ideal for typical outfits to go out in. You had decided on a long-sleeve, wrap top that was red, and paired it with black jeans and booties. The top was low-cut, showing just enough cleavage and making it perfect for going out.

This time, it was you dragging Kate out to the bars. Josh had consumed so much of your time that you knew a girls night was much needed. After Josh stopped by this afternoon, you immediately called Kate to tell her what happened. She made you repeat the whole story a second time and squealed at the end.

Kate, the supportive friend she was, said your game was genius. He’d be too busy finding you to pay attention to any other girls, which really was not what you were going for. You just wanted him off of your back so you could relax and enjoy time with Kate. Instead, the whole night seemed to be focused around him again, which was how your time seemed to be spent since you started to hook up with him regularly.

“Ready?” you asked, walking into the bathroom to see Kate dressed and adding the finishing touches to her makeup. “I’m going to call an Uber.”

“Ok, I just need to grab my purse and I’m good to go.”

Kate and you talked quietly about your plan for the evening on your ride to the bars. She thought it would be a good idea to avoid any of the bars that you’d hung out with Josh at since your first night together. You both decided on a small place you were confident he’d never guess to look at.

As the two of you got settled at the bar with drinks your phone pinged with a text.

Josh: Any more hints you can give me?

You: Now, now. What would be the fun in that?

Josh: C’mon babe, you know you want me to find you.

You could feel Kate’s eyes over your shoulder, so you leaned back to give her full view of your texts from Josh. If there was anyone you trusted for help when it came to guys, it was her.

“Ignore him,” she said simply, taking another sip of her drink. “He’ll find you if he wants to badly enough.”

Letting out a giggle, you locked your phone and set it down on the bar. Waving over the bartender, you ordered another round for the two of you and added on your favorite shot.

You really weren’t sure how much time had passed, or how many drinks the two of you had consumed, but the two of you ended up taking over the dance floor of the low key bar. Of course, it was a Saturday night so it was busier than normal, but you still had much more space than you would at any of the more popular bars in the city.

“Ohh you are the dancing queen, young and sweet,” you screamed at the top of your lungs to Kate.

“Only seventeen, dancing queen,” she belted back with a giggle.

The two of you fell together in a mess of sweaty hair from drinking, singing and dancing for the last few hours. It had been forever since you’d had a night alone to have pure fun like this, and you knew that it was much needed.

“I gotta pee,” you hiccuped to Kate. “Be back soon.”

“Ok, I’m gonna grab more drinks,” she leaned in to kiss your cheek and you stumbled in the direction of the bathroom.

While waiting in the short line, you pulled out your phone that hadn’t been checked since you first got the bar.

Josh: Well you aren’t at any of your normal places.

For some reason you decided to answer his texts, which Kate probably wouldn’t approve of but you did anyways. Giggling to yourself, you typed out a text that seemed hilarious in your drunken state.

You: So many hot guys at this bar, maybe I’ll find one of them before you find me ;)

Locking your phone, you used the restroom and then walked back out to find Kate waiting with your next drink. After polishing them off you ended up back on the dance floor to continue making fools of yourselves.

A few songs later, you felt hands on your hips, but knew they didn’t belong to Josh. For as short of a time that you’d known him, you could immediately tell that it wasn’t his hands on your body. You skin heated at his touch, and whoever was trying to dance with you know didn’t get the same reaction for you. Regardless, you didn’t really care when you were so drunk.

You looked over your shoulder and saw a handsome guy with dark features smiling back at with you.

“I’m Jack,” he yelled into your ear. Jack must’ve had a friend, because you turned your eyes back towards Kate and saw her occupied as well.

Not even bothering to introduce yourself or make small talk, you leaned into him and started to dance. This was exactly what you needed. Harmless flirting with a random guy that would go no further, but would also take your mind off of Josh and his mission to find you.

It was some time later when the song changed to something Odesza that Jack told you he was going to get you guys drinks. Him and Kate’s guy headed off into the direction of the bar, when someone bumped into you from behind. You fell forward a little until Kate caught your arm to keep you steady, but your phone fell to the ground.

“Shit, shit, shit,” you groaned out. “Please don’t be broke.”

Bending over, you picked up your phone and wiped off the alcohol that was coating the floor of the dive bar. You hadn’t been this drunk in so long, so it took you a second to process the text message on your phone from Josh. Turning the phone towards Kate, you showed her what he had sent you and watched her eyes go wide.

Josh: HA, funny. See ya soon.

“He’s all talk,” Kate yelled over the music. “There’s no way he’ll find you at this place.”

“Well if he does then Jack better look out,” you giggled, somehow finding it funny even though you knew it was wrong to put a random stranger in the middle of your little game.

The boys came back, this time with drinks and a pair of shots for you and Kate. Knowing this really needed to be your last round, you through back the shot and welcomed the burn sliding down your throat. A new song began playing and Jack took your hand to start dancing again. Somehow you managed to stand upright even though you desperately needed to find a place to sit down. Jack’s hand wrapped around your waist was the only thing keeping you up, and he pulled you flush to the front of his body.

As your eyes lulled closed and you let Jack move you to the beat of the music, you could feel his hot breath creep down your neck. He was getting a little too handsy for your liking, but you really didn’t have the energy to push him off of you. Everything was starting to feel numb in your body and you didn’t feel in control of your body at all.

“Y/N?” you heard Kate call out your name, but her voice sounded like she was talking underwater. “Are you ok?”

“Hmmm?” you mumbled back, barely even able to open your lips.

“What the hell did you do to her?” Kate yelled at Jack, who has started to let go of your body until your legs started to give out. “Get the fuck off of her.”

You felt outside of your body, like you could see what was happening but had no capability to respond. Jack and his friend disappeared when Kate threatened to call the cops, but she was more concerned with making sure you were ok. She slung your arm over her shoulder and pulled you into the bathroom. “Move!” Kate yelled at the girls in line ahead of you, pulling you into a stall that a girl was about to go into.

Kate let you collapse onto the floor, and she wrapped your hair in one hand while using the other to hold your head over the toilet.

“Y/N,” Kate called out, slapping your cheek lightly to get your eyes opened a little. You could make out the shape of her concerned face and wanted to cry knowing you’d caused this, but couldn’t. “I need you to throw up, but I might have to help. Is that ok?”

“Mmmm,” was all you could mumble out, still unable to make out words. Before you knew what was happening, Kate opened your mouth gently and stuck two of her fingers down your throat. You gagged on her fingers and she pulled them out, allowing you to empty the contents of your stomach into the toilet.

Your stomach continued to heave until it hurt and you laid your head on the edge of the toilet bowl. After a few minutes of laying there, you started to heave again and emptied even more. Leaning back against Kate, you finally felt a little more coherent.

“Josh,” you groaned out, unable to add anymore but needing him to comfort you desperately. Kate reached for your phone, unlocking it and finding his contact to call. You couldn’t make out much other than the sound of his voice rising when she told him what happened.

“She’s doing better now. Just get here please, she’s asking for you,” Kate told him what bar you were at and hung up the phone. “Do you think you can walk if I help you up?”

You simply nodded your head, reaching for her hand to help you up. Kate opened the stall, guiding you out of the bathroom and towards the front of the bar. She was looking around to see if Jack and his friend had the nerve to stick around, but all you could do was focus on the front door and pray that Josh showed up soon.

You’d spent the last few weeks shutting him out in every way except for sex, but in this moment there was nothing you craved more than being in his arms. There was never a question of whether or not you’d trusted him, you just did, always feeling so safe when you were with him.

As if hearing your thoughts, Josh walked through the door to the bar looking distraught. His eyes found yours and it looked like a deep breath whooshed out of his lungs in relief.

“Y/N, are you ok?” he rushed over, running his hands through your hair and inspecting you to make sure you were safe.

“Am now,” you said, dropping your head onto his shoulder. “Home.”

Kate handed Josh your things and turned to you. “I’m going to talk to the bartender about finding the guy that did this, ok Y/N? Josh will take you home.”

Nodding your head, Josh wrapped his arms around you and carried you to his car parked on the street near the bar. He buckled you in a and then got into the drivers seat, gripping the steering wheel hard. His jaw was clenched so hard you thought it might break, but you didn’t want to say anything to set him off.

Your eyes drifted closed and you fell asleep, only being woken by the feeling of Josh carrying you inside. Blinking a few times, you noticed he took you to your house rather than his. Josh set you down on the seat of your toilet and turned to grab a wash cloth. Gently, he started to wipe away your makeup that had been streaked by tears when you were throwing up.

“I’m sorry I didn’t find you sooner,” Josh sighed, turning to rinse the wash cloth out. “You scared me so bad babe, if Kate hadn’t been there…”

“Please don’t,” you whimpered out, leaning forward to bury your face in his chest. Now you were feeling more alert you started to process just what had happened, and it really scared you. “It’s my fault.”

“What? Y/N, when someone does like this it’s never your fault,” Josh whispered, bending down to press a kiss to the top of your head. “Don’t say that.”

“I was dancing with him before you got there,” you told him honestly, embarrassed that you were being so childish to find another girl. You felt the muscles in Josh’s abdomen tense but he didn’t say anything.

“That doesn’t give him a right to take advantage of you,” he told you, not acknowledging that you had been flirting with another guy. “C’mon, lets get you to bed. You’ll feel so much better in the morning.”

He took your hand and led you up the stairs to your bedroom, closing the door behind the two of you. You instructed Josh where to find your pajamas in the closet and he gave them to you to get dressed. Turning, he started to look around your room while giving you privacy to get dressed.

“I haven’t been in here,” he murmured, taking in a photo board you had on your wall made up of pictures and memories with your family and friends. It kept you grounded and less homesick, being away from your family while you were at college.

Once you were dress you stood to walk up behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist and resting your head on his back. It felt good to just feel his warmth and breath him in. Josh always smelled so fresh, like his body wash you’d used while staying over one night, and with a touch of pine. Something you’d only ever associate with him, and it comforted you in this moment.

“You were a cute kid,” he chuckled, skimming his finger over a picture of you playing on a rock that sat in your grandmas lawn.

Suddenly, it felt too good to have him in your room and you really didn’t want to spend the night alone after what had happened. You couldn’t even imagine what state you’d be in if Kate hadn’t been there to take care of you.

“Will you stay the night?” you asked Josh quietly, scared he’d say no for some reason. “And just hold me.”

“I thought you’d never ask,” Josh turned to you with a shy smile and leaned down to place a kiss on your forehead.

You settled into your bed and found yourself falling asleep by his side faster than you had in months. It felt good, too good, but you didn’t care in this moment.